#and thank you again for not just stopping by to play

[reiderwriter]

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read. 

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward. 

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading. 

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it. 

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one. 

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently. 

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you. 

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.” 

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.” 

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!” 

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now. 

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down. 

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced. 

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate. 

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-” 

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?” 

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area. 

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room. 

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza. 

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone. 

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long. 

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that. 

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him. 

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light. 

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night. 

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you. 

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried. 

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep. 

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing. 

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both. 

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily. 

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed. 

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you. 

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid. 

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for. 

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted. 

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life. 

He was screwed. 

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so. 

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination. 

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass. 

Screwed supreme. 

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took. 

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature. 

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you. 

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.” 

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you. 

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd. 

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable. 

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?” 

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye. 

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you. 

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.” 

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time. 

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted. 

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you. 

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else. 

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door. 

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary. 

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today” 

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.” 

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.” 

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him. 

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you. 

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief. 

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release. 

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again. 

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name. 

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over. 

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy. 

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off. 

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you. 

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation. 

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious. 

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing. 

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths. 

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier. 

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more. 

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over. 

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth. 

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in. 

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.” 

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser. 

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe. 

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won. 

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you. 

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time. 

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake. 

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey. 

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down. 

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again. 

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously. 

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now. 

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again. 

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back. 

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock. 

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs. 

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that. 

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss. 

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.” 

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it  eliciting a small whimper of frustration. 

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close. 

“You were avoiding me.” 

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting. 

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.” 

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations. 

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds smut #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #cmkinkbingo2024

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild II

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: SMUT, porn with a plot, sexually explicit language, cursing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, nipple play, locker room sex, swimmer lingo

word count: 5.5k

part 1

tags💜: @midnightwrriting @no1runawaymilkdad @ihave-aboringlife @blahhucantmakeme @laniirackssss @blood-bloss @lmaoyani @geminiflanagansblog @ruyaas-world @hrlzy @povobsessed @stephstephstephsteph @chakin @10ava01 @lem0ns77 @velvrei @hdhdhdndhdndk

masterlist

a/n: sorry if the tags aren’t working, I tried to include everyone that wanted it. lmk if you have questions on anything. hope you enjoy!!

A week has passed since the last time you’d seen Art and you try to rid any thoughts of him from your mind as you enter the women’s locker room, the day so early that the sun has only just risen. You’d only spent a few hours with him, but he feels more important to you than a mere acquaintance, especially considering you’d let him have more of you than most people would ever get to. You try to tell yourself it won’t matter if he shows or not, but deep down you know that it will. Regardless, overthinking won’t help you in the water so you shove it down as you steadily pull on your tech suit, careful not to rip the delicate fabric. Your headphones are currently blaring your hype playlist in your ear, but you slide them off once you notice movement to your left as Chloe opens her own locker.

“You ready?” she asks you, pulling out her own racing suit from the depths of her swim bag.

“Not really,” you admit, giving up on stretching your tight suit to your full body frame for the time being as you opt for a tie-back bikini top instead. Your shoulders are ever so grateful. “I’m so nervous.”

“Why? Because of your race or your little tennis boyfriend?” she teases, lips quirking into a classic Chloe smirk. As your best friend, she was the first and only person you told about your interaction with Art at the party and, of course, she had been teasing you about it since. While during practice it was amusing, you are not in the mood for jokes right before a race, especially one of such importance.

You furrow a brow, shaking your head to signal that it’s not the time for such jests concerning the blonde. As the good friend that she is, Chloe immediately understands as she moves to help tie your suit straps, a simple task that you are unexpectedly failing at due to the pressure of the meet ahead of you.

“You’re going to do great,” Chloe comforts, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder once she’s finished with your straps. “I’m sure of it.”

“What if I don’t break the record?”

“Who cares? You can try again next time. If that’s the worst that can happen, you don’t have anything to be nervous about,” she smiles in assurance. “Besides that record is as good as yours -” she makes a gesture to your tech suit that has the most magical of time bending abilities if wielded by the right swimmer. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Nothing can stop you now.”

“Thanks Clo.” you grin at her appreciatively, and though your nerves don’t settle in the slightest, you feel more comfortable living in cohabitation with them now. They’re so much easier to manage when you’re not alone.

It’s only minutes before the rest of your team has arrived and you have hours before your event is scheduled to take place, yet it only feels like seconds before you’re being seated in the waiting room amongst your competitors, tech suit finally fully on. Rousing music plays through your headphones though you are sure to skip any songs that seem even the slightest bit romantic. You try to slip into the right headspace, the line between confident and cocky that has always aided you in not panicking just before you step up to the blocks in the past. You try to find it, using any method at your fingertips, but it’s no use. You can’t seem to find it no matter how hard you try and suddenly it feels as if the weight of the world is crashing down on you when the door opens and your event is called. You stand with the other women and together you line up behind the blocks.

The sun shines much higher up in the sky than it had been when you dove in during warm ups, blaring down to reflect off the red of your cap that bears the Stanford logo in white along with your last name. You take your rightful place behind the starting block of the middle lane, and though you already wrote your heat and lane in black sharpie on your forearm just to be sure, you can’t help but worry that you’ve already missed your race.

It’s only when the head announcer calls your event on the loudspeaker that you stop dwelling on it, her voice echoing through the stands that seem so much taller now that you're in the center with so much pressure resting solely on you. You rake though the rafters to your left, hoping to be comforted by the sight of Chloe or one of your other teammates until you realize that they are more than likely preparing for their own events in the warm up pool.

It's then, just when the swirling hurricane of emotions is hurtling toward you, that you see him. He’s seated in the first row, blonde curls circling his head like a golden crown and a wide smile lighting up his face when he sees that you’ve finally spotted him, one that you can’t help returning as he mouths sweet wishes of luck to you.

Art came. He actually came!

The storm subsides and all of a sudden you’ve lost all your inhibitions. Instead of buzzing anxiety, you are filled with a new light and the confidence of a record breaker. It’s all so clear with Art in the stands and as his presence wafts away your storm of worries, you come to the realization that you can do it. You know you can.

The whistle of an official blares through the speaker and on cue you slide on your goggles and mount the block. You’re really starting to feel the compression of your suit as you bend into your diving position, waiting for the magic words. The signal that it’s time to race and leave everything you have in the pool as you go.

“Swimmers, take your marks…” 

You take one last breath before the sound blares and you dive off the block. It all comes naturally to you and with the help of your suit, you find yourself breaking out farther than ever before.

You only have a few strokes until you’re at the end of the pool when out of nowhere, the girl in the lane beside you starts to catch up to you until the two of you are neck and neck and it doesn’t escape your attention when she flips a split second before you’re able to.

You know it’s not about winning, you told Art that, but it’s as if a fire has been lit behind you and you’re suddenly determined to go for the gold. You push yourself harder than you ever have before and though you're not sure where the energy has come from, you know it’s exactly what you need. You’ve failed if you’re able to get out of the pool without stumbling.

Before long you catch up to the swimmer beside you, taking your first and only breath as you summon the last of your power, pushing through the water like a jet-ski. At once you’re behind the flags and unlike before, there’s no one beating you to the touch pad resting on the side of the ending wall as you slam your hand down and come up for air.

The crowd erupts with applause once you finish and at first you’re under the impression that it’s because of your win until your eyes glaze over at the scoreboard and nearly burst from your skull at the sight of the result.

You had accomplished your goal. There it was, a time faster than the Stanford record glowing right beside your name. But you didn’t just pass it by a few flimsy hundredths. Your new record was more than a second faster.

You can hardly believe it and you know if the proof weren’t right in front of you, there’d only be disbelief instead of this crashing wave of accomplishment and pride. Though you’re in severe oxygen debt from the race, you find yourself screaming in excitement at your gigantic accomplishment.

“We have a new record!” an official announces through the loudspeaker once the other girls have returned to the starting wall, followed by your name and new time. You search for Art again once you’re out of the water, all but failing to suppress your grin as you find him clapping in the stands and smiling down at you as if you were the most precious stone in the world.

Your teammates are filled with the same immense pride when you join them in the locker room once the meet is over. You’ve since changed from your tech suit, switching out the tight fabric for your cozy hoodie, tie-back bikini top, and a towel tied around your waist. The suit in question now hangs in your locker with the rest of your clothes that you had been in the middle of putting on before the congradulations began.

“I fucking told you!” Chloe shouts, clapping you on the back like you had just won the lottery. You imagine such a feat couldn’t match the pride you feel now.

You almost say that you can’t believe it, but the words stall on your lips. You actually can believe it, this is something you’ve been working tirelessly for. And now, after a long hard race, the record title is finally yours.

“Did I see a certain blonde in the audience?” Chloe smirks, nudging you as you wave goodbye to one of your other parting teammates.

“Maybe,” you drawl, trying your best to hide your growing grin, but the thought of the man makes you feel like flying through the air as year worth of buried emotions bubble up to the surface. You haven’t felt anything like this for a very long time.

“You know what that means…” Chloe whispers to you after you pull away from a hug with one of the other girls who like everyone else, is on her way out. The night’s party is being hosted at a house that’s a longer commute than usual in honor of the women’s tenth annual win and unlike your teammates, you aren’t in any hurry to get there knowing the a portion of the celebration will surround you.

“Drinks on you?” you guess, pretending you are clueless as to what she’s getting at. You hope it’s enough to deter her from whatever inevitably grotesque she’s about to say, but you know it’s to no avail as she laughs and shakes her head.

“Nice try,” she smiles, nudging you with her elbow. “I meant that he’s definetly going to fuck the shit out of you next time you see him.”

You cringe bashfully at her words, hitting her on the shoulder as she backs away from your shrunken form.

“Chloe!” you chide, though you both know no real anger lies within your tone. She’s been like this since the day you’d first met her: always the same old loving, indecorous Chloe.

“Just saying.” she shrugs before turning to say her goodbyes to the last lingering one of your other teammates.

You turn to open your locker, finally ready to change out of your damp towel until you’re startled by the clacking footsteps of unfamiliar tennis shoes heading in your direction. You assume it’s another random spectator who had bypassed the many signs clearly stating that the locker room is for athlete occupance only, but at once you find you’re very wrong when you turn to see who it is.

Art stands before you and though it was his decision to invade the women’s locker room, he looks as surprised as you.

“Hey,” he says, almost breathlessly. You’re thankful when you notice that Chloe is fully dressed to your left, just pulling on her knit cardigan.

She smirks smuggly at the sight of him, swinging her bag over her shoulders before sending you a wink and a swiftly muttered, “Told ya.” Without another word she exits, leaving you and Art utterly and completely alone.

“You realize this is the women’s restroom, right?” you jab as you hear Chloe shut the door behind her, though it’s all in good fun. As far as you know, no one is coming anywhere near the locker room for the next several hours.

“I was waiting outside for you,” he states, gradually lifting his hands from their tense place in the front of his jean pockets. “I thought everyone else had already come out, but I guess I was wrong.”

“That’s just Chloe,” you laugh, gesturing in the direction of the exit path your best friend had just taken. “Don’t worry, she won’t tattle.”

He chuckles, amused by your jest before he takes a slow step closer to you. Like a sparkler to your stomach, you become acutely aware of the tension between the two of you, growing like the blush colored blossoms of a cherry tree in spring. “I’ve thought about what you said.”

This makes you smile.

“And?”

“You were right.”

You’re heart flutters, so light that if it weren’t encaged within your chest you’re sure it would’ve floated away. He pauses to take another tense step in your direction, now only a foot away.

“Do you know how Tashi and I met?”

“I don’t, actually,” you say, words laced with a twinge of sarcasm.

“Right,” he laughs, realizing the folly behind his question. It was more rhetorical than anything, but he begins the story like a spider spindiling its web. “Well it was only about a year ago. We met at the US open. Patrick and I both went after her and you know what she told us?”

You wait for the answer.

“She said she’d give her number to whoever won our match. That was the first time I ever lost and it was to my best friend.”

“That’s who was at your match, wasn’t it?” you ask.

Art nods solumnly, though the pain that had been etched on his face from your last meeting has vanished, as if the thorn in his side has been replced by a budding rose.

“I didn’t know Art, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he urges. “It’s all okay now. I’ve realized that none of it matters anymore and it’s all because of you. If I’m being honest, I thought maybe if I won my match, then Tashi would leave him. But it’s not what I want anymore. I don’t want to be the winner she’s running to. I don’t want to have to earn her love.”

“What do you want?”

There’s a pause, a distinct moment where the glint in his blue eyes from the bright lights above conveys a clever message to you than any words could. Then he speaks.

“I think you know what I want.”

It’s all the confirmation you need to know that he’s finally playing the same game as you. He’s unbearably close now as his head reaches up to gently rake through your stringy wet hair. You welcome his touch, breath catching in your throat at the feeling of his fingers as his lips hover just above yours. If you’re being completely honest, you haven’t stopped fantasizing about it since the night of the party. Since the moment he had kissed you.

“You were right,” he whispers as his hot breath tickles the tips of your top lips with every placid word. “I don’t care about winning anymore. The only point I want to score is you.”

“That’s a really bad joke.” you remark, pointing out the obvious from his corny declaration. But Art doesn’t share your smirk, his face settling in an expression that’s much more sensual.

“I’m not kidding.”

You feel the immediate shift in energy as your smirk fades to parted lips and Art’s longing gaze moves downward from your eyes. What little space left between you is squashed as you allow him to pull you even closer, noses prodigy one another as Art’s fingers drift from the tips of your hair to cup the back of your head. It’s almost salivating the way he looks at you and you’re suddenly eager to remember what he tastes like.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks through a whisper, so quietly that if you hadn’t been right in front of him, you surely wouldn’t have heard it. It’s milliseconds before you’re nodding exuberantly with more urgency than a speeding ambulance (something you might need if your heart decided to beat any faster).

“Pleas-” you start, but Art’s on you before you can even get the word out, covering your lips with his until all you can taste, smell, and feel is him. Everything is him.

He’s gentle with you at first, testing the waters as his lips pass smoothly over yours. You lift up your hands to invite him in, squeezing the toned flesh of his arms before you drag them slowly up to the nape of his neck. You toy with some of the curls that rest there, twirling them between your fingers while sinking into the sounds he makes in return. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth, and at once his tongue melds with yours. You match the new intensity, swallowing each low groan.

Unlike your last encounter, it’s Art who pulls away this time, forcing you to scowl at him in confusion, eyes squinting and lips puffy. He twists his head to the left, glazing at the wide space behind him as he slowly moves the both of you backwards to the nearest flat-board bench until one of its edges grazes the top of his shin.

“What are you doing?” you ask through a whisper, leaning forward so that your lips titillate the tip of his ear which sends inadvertent shivers through his whole body. Art turns back to you, smirking as he leans in for another sloppy kiss, earning a salacious sound from you before his lips shift from yours and trailing from the corner of your mouth to the line of your open jaw where his teeth scrape against your skin. You can feel him grinning as he makes you emit the softest of moans.

“I want to make up for the other night. I said some things - I’m not proud of.”

You give a giddy chuckle as you cup his cheek, amused by the fact that he thinks his past behavior was inexcusable until Art’s head dips to suck on the tender skin of your neck and you can’t help but whine. You’re glad you have the lung capacity of a swimmer otherwise you might’ve fainted from the near constant lack of oxygen.

“Art, honestly-” a sudden gasp is ripped from you as you feel him nipping at your sweet spot, crumbling like a tin can under pressure. “-it’s fine.” you barely manage to finish your sentence.

He places a few more steady kisses to the column of your neck, working his way down to your clavicle. You tip your head back, an unintentional effect from the sensation of his lips as he lays the last just near the edge of your collarbone before raising his head to look at you and it’s almost as if he can see right through you.

“Does that mean you don’t want what I’m offering?” he questions, glancing down at the steady movement of your chest as it rises and falls beneath your hoodie. You don’t recall when in the last few minutes he managed to move his hands down to your waist, but you can feel them now as clear as ever. He grips the sides of your hoodie, nimble fingers sliding under the thick gray fabric until they find the skin beneath and his touch feels like fire, sparking flames along your hips with every small caress. It’s so hot that you aren’t sure how Tashi could pick anyone over him. You aren’t sure how anyone could deny him for that matter.

“No…” you admit and at once his hands start to travel higher and higher until they reach the bottom band of your bikini, inflaming the whole of your torso as he meets the straps still tied neatly together in the middle of your spine forming a perfect bow. His fingers follow the provided path, meeting at the center of your back as he starts to twirl one of the tails of the knot around his pointer finger.

“May I?” he asks, his tone so deceivingly politely as he gently tugs on the string. He waits patiently for your consent as his eyes pan up from your chest to your expression. You can’t get the words out, already too overwhelmed from the sizzling sensation of his touch, but you make sure to nod with the utmost enthusiasm. Who were you to tell Art Donaldson no when he was so eager to touch you? And you, in turn, were so eager to feel him.

He smiled at your agreeance and instantly unfastened the tie of your suit, pulling on the strand until the entire bow came undone. He lips pressed against yours once more before he settled down on the bench and raised the hem of your hoodie just enough to expose your stomach, peppering kisses to every inch of you.

You released your hold on him to assist in pulling the hoodie over your head, tossing it behind you where it lands in a crumple pile near the metal door of your locker. Without any tension left to hold it up, the triangle cutlets of your bikini slump to reveal two perfect pebbled nipples, leaving the towel looped around your waist as your only source of coverage.

Usually you’d feel insecure being so bare for a man that’s practically a stranger, but from the dazed look Art gives you as he takes in the sight of your figure, you find that you don’t mind it in the slightest.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Art mutters almost involuntarily, sending shock waves down straight to your core. The words came bursting out before he could find the strength to hold them back, his brain too busy processing your beauty to have any control over any sort of filter. You return your hands to his head of blonde curls just as he presses one last kiss to the center of your abdomen, exactly below your rib cage.

The movement is so sudden that you can't count the seconds that pass before he grabs at your breasts, each hand perfectly cupping the mounted flesh. His mouth is slower, trailing kisses up the valley of your chest.

His thumb works the sensitive skin encircling your nipple, running over the hardened peak in an unperceivable pattern that forces another well earned moan from your lips. It’s encouragement for his other hand that immediately drifts upwards to mirror the actions of the other. Every pinch and slight movement is like gasoline to your fire, all pouring in a downward stream to the part of you that grows more needy with every passing second. You could cry from the sensation of it all, the intensity only growing when you feel him pass his tongue over your left nipple. You try to suppress any sounds this time, teeth biting down on your lip as you curve your head back, but it forces its way out despite your efforts. You grip the hair fixed to his crown and pressure him forwards so that he remains in place.

“Shit, that feels - really good.” you praise, your phrase strung together like an old beaded bracelet as changes in pace break apart each word. When Art does part from your breasts, it’s to press wet kisses down the line of your abdomen as flickering thumbs replace his mouth. He pauses as he reaches the softest portion of your stomach, stopping just above the knot that is covering your very bare lower half, and though you don’t recall informing him about your lack of undergarments, you are sure that he already knows.

“I need to taste you,” he whispers against your skin.

He doesn’t ask you for permission anymore, but instead glances up at you from his spot on the bench and it’s everything you need to understand what he wants from you. And of course you want it. You’re sure if he wastes a second longer to tend to your throbbing center, you might just pass out in his sturdy arms.

“Please, Art, I need you,” you’re able to get out, though it’s breathy and delicate from the way that he’s rendered you.

He’s quick to oblige as he takes the top of your towel cover in between his perfect white teeth and yanks the fabric hard enough for it to fall to your feet. He’s on you in an instant, one of his hands moving to support your shaky frame as he slides a knee between yours to spread you open.

He coaxes every cry out of you with his tongue, wet and skilled as he traces it along each fold, his nose bobbing against your swollen clit not dissimilar from his left hand that still lies atop your breast. You press him closer to you as he swirls his tongue around you, over and over and never in the same way more than twice in a row. It’s overstimulation at its best, overwhelming you until you're trembling in his grasp and before you know it, you’re riding the edge of the wave to pure pleasure.

“Fuck, Art! I’m- I’m-“ you can’t even finish your sentence, he feels so good. He hums against you in amusement, the vibrations of his voice meeting your core in a melting sensation that you find yourself grinding into uncontrollably.

“On my tongue,” he promotes against you before licking a steady stripe along your center. It’s then that you know you’re done for. Your cry is almost inhuman as you leap off the edge, diving into the heart of the wave as Art finally relinquishes his hold on your breast and uses the newly unoccupied hand to pierce into your arousal, calloused fingers curling into you as he helps you down from your high. Even after you cum you know you still have more in you. And you can tell from the growing bulge in his pants that Art isn’t done with you either.

He stands to kiss you with dampened lips as the taste of your own arousal invades your senses, but you withdraw from the embrace after only a few seconds to ask him your burning question, desire already regrowing like a flooding river of need.

“Art, I need you,” you start, pulling at the canvas material of his button up. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before pressing his mouth towards yours and back you up to the wall of lockers that are neatly arranged behind you.

Granted by his permission, you unfasten each button of his shirt until it’s enough to pull it off him which he happily helps you accomplish. You can’t tell who’s more desperate for you to feel the dense muscle of his chest as he places your palms face down on his pecs, granting you the assurance you needed to explore his body.

You take your time, squeezing and prodding just as he had done to you until one of your hands is low enough on his stomach to palm him through his light wash jeans. The soft whimper he returns is nearly enough to send you over again. He pulls back as he lets you undo his belt, eyelids fluttering after you’ve unbuttoned and unzipped the only thing keeping you from him. You’re quick to pull him out, not at all shocked by how hard he is and it’s a major ego boost knowing it’s all because of you.

“See what you do to me?” he whispers against your lips as if you needed more proof of his longing for you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Please,” you beg. “I need to feel you.”

Art is quick to oblige as his calloused fingers grip the soft skin of your hips, so rough that you can feel every callus from his racket as he pushes you against the lockers, thrusting up into you. While he’s dying to continue, he hesitates so that you can acclimate to his size. It takes no longer than a second as you release a guttural groan and wrap a leg around his waist, aiding him in hitting even deeper within you.

“Fuck!” you cry, throwing your head back against the cold metal as Art nips at your neckline again. You’re drowning beneath the blissful rocky wave and from the sounds that he’s making, almost re-enacting one of his matches just for you, you can tell that Art is too.

It happens so quickly that your mind struggles to understand it, spinning wildly as the wave pulls you under once more along with Art who finishes in a similar amount of time. You lean into his chest, breathing heavily as you take in the heavenly scent of his undoubtedly expensive cologne and slightly wincing as he pulls out of you slowly. He ducks to pick up your fallen towel as he starts to clean you up.

The realization that it’s over doesn't quite hit you until Art helps you get dressed, buckling his belt back up only once you’re decent and in return you hand him a spare shirt so he doesn’t have to redo every button on the one you’d nearly torn off him.

“Thanks,” he smiles gratefully, pulling on your shirt which fits tighter around him than it would around you, though it’s nothing to complain about as every miniscule ripple of muscle is on display.

You’re both thinking the exact same thing as you exit the locker room, hand in hand with the same guilty expression on your face as you pass an incoming janitor who is too busy scowling to ask Art what he was doing in the women’s locker room. It’s obvious from the encounter that it won’t be your last and as Art drives you to the planned frat party, you’re even sure that it’s not the last of the night.

Time proves you right as you’re seated next to Art a few weeks later, curled into his side as you share a large plate of the appetizer combo at a local Applebees. It was the only thing open after a long day of matches and meets and steamy rendezvous in between. The two of you were going on steadier than the trunks of ancient trees as you continue to support each other, you attending all of Art’s matches ( even if it meant skipping a practice or two) and Art cheering for you at all of your meets. You’re not sure if it’s the consistent attendance, but the both of you were only getting better at your respective hobbies by the day, particularly Art who hadn’t lost a match since meeting you.

You’re both jokingly arguing over who gets the last quesadilla when a familiar woman stops near your table, joined by a man you’d never seen before, though you recognize him from several of Art's detailed stories. He straightens beside you, gathering himself to greet the new company.

“Hey guys, long time no see!”

“Art,” Patrick nods to his friend before smiling to you and offering his hand, one that you take without a second thought. “I’m Patrick.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You must be Tashi.” you turn to the girl and you can’t help, but analyze the peculiarities of her expression. It’s clear she is content with her own man of choice, but something about the way she looks at you tells you that she’s still involved in the tennis philosophy you managed to screw out of Art. She looks at you like you’re a player she’s lost to. And from what Art’s told you, you're certain it’s the first time Tashi has lost.

“It’s nice to meet you.” she fakes a smile before pulling Patrick to the door, careful not to stay long enough for the conversation to lead anywhere important. It’s awkward and strange, but you know it’s for the best. You’re not particularly interested in anything she has to say anyways.

“Did you see that?” you ask, pointing in the direction of the doorway that the couple had used for an easy escape.

“What?” Art wonders, looking towards you in anticipation.

“I think she’s looking for a new winner.”

Art leans in to peck the apple of your cheek, assurance that no matter the circumstance, he’ll never be available to the likes of Tashi Duncan again.

“Must be because I’ve won,” he reasons, “-because I have you and there’s nothing she can do to separate us.”

You smile at his sweet words, praying that he never ceases to use his talent for affectionate poetry as you lean in to kiss him. Whether he wins or loses or even never plays again, you couldn’t care less about the outcome of his career. As long as Art’s happy, you’re prepared to take on any challenge you’re put up to, whether on the court or in the pool.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson fanfic #stanford art!!! #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #challengers #challengers fanfic #swimmer life #swimming #smut #mike faist

[luveline]

I would love to see Derek with a super confident sunshine gf but May be she gets super shy and flustered when he compliments her or makes a dirty joke and just like the first time it happens and Derek is so taken aback by her shyness bc he's used to her being chatty and confident

“Hi, Dr. Reid.” 

Derek knows it’s gonna be a good day when you come in already flirting. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. “Want a bagel?” 

“Thanks, handsome, but I already had breakfast.” Derek leans back in his chair to watch you, and you see his moving, turning your attention to him with an equally brilliant smile. “Hi, Agent Morgan.” 

“You can call me Derek, baby.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say lightly. You pull your pea coat tighter against yourself and give a breath. “Is it cold in here today, or is it just me?” 

“There’s a problem with the radiators,” Spencer says. “They sent out an email this morning to dress warmly. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow, apparently.” 

“Oh. I didn’t see. I don’t think I’m dressed for the cold,” you say, looking down at your short heels. “I would’ve worn sneakers like you, Spence.” 

“I brought some extra socks?” Spencer says. 

“Well, keep me a pair in case I need them?” you ask. 

“Sweetheart, if it’s warming up you need, you come straight to me,” Derek says, his tone warm as his promise, “I’ll find a way to keep you comfortable, that’s on my life, don’t waste your time with anybody else.” 

He doesn’t mean it to sound so heavily sexual, but he absolutely did mean for it to be an innuendo. Regardless, he isn’t expecting this —you look straight to Spencer like you want to check he’s heard it, and you fluster hard, fisting the strap of your purse where it’s snug over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Okay,” you say shyly, nodding, looking at the space to the left of Derek’s shoulder. “Won’t waste my time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve always been sweet like that, your sunny disposition drew him to you like a moth to a flame, and yet Derek can’t recall ever having made you fluster so quickly, and so visibly. 

Derek suspects he’d find neck hot under his hand with a flush if he touched it. laughs loudly, pen in his hands wagging up and down as he fights the urge to say anything else and prolong your agony.  

You give a soft laugh, flustered, embarrassed and breathless, tapping his ankle with your shoe. “That was a bit mean.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, sorry Spencer has to be here to see it, “I was kidding.” 

“I know!” You also give Spencer a sorry look.

Spencer, while sometimes slow to pick up subtle social cues, thankfully gets the idea and stands up from his chair. Derek follows suit, though he doesn’t scarper for the kitchen. 

“That caught me off guard,” you say, laughing again as he offers his arms to you. 

“What happened?” He tugs you forward. You tuck your arms behind his neck to kiss his jaw, the morning hello.

“You said it like you were bossing me around!” you defend yourself.

“And you liked that?” 

“Stop, stop,” you laugh. “I wasn’t expecting it. You never boss me around. You’re nicer than anybody gives you credit for.” 

“You think so?” he asks, still teasing, but also vaguely smug. To get to hug you in the office, arms on your waist, prettiest face ever made, Derek can’t help himself. “I really will keep you warm. I’ll get you a heater.” 

“You’re my heater.” 

“I’m hot-blooded.” 

You part ways with mutual reluctance. “You’re something, Derek.” 

He enjoys making you laugh, and the shy tilt of your head as you’d recovered, but he’s much happier when you’re bundled up at your desk with a hot cup of coffee and his promised space heater plugged in at your feet, chatting across the way to him about what you want to do this weekend if he doesn’t get called away. 

“Maybe we can buy a couple of DVD’s and you can warm me up all weekend,” you suggest, an attempt to pretend you aren’t bothered by his comment anymore, that it had been a momentary lapse in judgement. 

Derek’s content to give you anything you ask for. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” 

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[stylesharrys]

Harry’s got a crush on the pretty bartender. (Blurb)

A/N: another little blurb, I feel bad because I should be working on the realtor fic or Italyrry but my inspiration just isn’t there for them at the moment, so I’m trying to ease myself back into it with these :)

//

In the least creepiest way possible, Harry had been watching her all night. And not in a weird way... more so mesmerised. She'd been running the bar alone on a Friday night, somehow remembering long lists of drink orders and not spilling a single drink.

To say he was impressed would've been an understatement. Harry was completely in awe watching her pour a pint of Guinness, shake up a sex on the beach and pour three shots of Sambuca all at the same time.

She managed to keep the line short, customers happy and still sing along to whatever obnoxiously loud song the live band was playing.

When it was Harry's turn to be served, she greeted him with a kind smile and leaned against the bar with her arms outstretched — an act that took everything in Harry not to look down at her chest.

"Hello again, handsome. What can I get you?"

He almost choked on his saliva, practically froffing at the mouth from her words. Was she just this friends with everyone? Or had she been watching Harry the way he'd been watching her.

It was probably the former.

He cleared his throat. “Two pints of Amstel, please.”

“Anything else?” There was a flirty tone to her words, Harry was sure of it. Maybe that was way made him reply what he did.

“Your number?” He cheesed, a blush on his cheeks from the embarrassment of his own words.

Her eyebrows raised to her hairline as she blinked at him, slightly taken back by his forwardness but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth nonetheless.

“My number?” She teased back, her voice lighter than before as she slowed her movements just long enough to talk to him some more.

“Sorry,” Harry laughed bashfully, “I don’t usually hit on barmaids like that.”

Her brows raised impossibly higher. “Oh,” she spoke, “So you have a thing for barmaids?” Her hand closed around the lever for the Amstel pump and pulled down slowly, tilting his glass to pour his drink.

Harry’s cheeks grew impossibly pinker and he nervously scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “No,” he stammered, “I just mean I don’t usually ask for someone’s number straight away. ‘Specially like that.”

She hummed as her smirk grew. She was making him nervous and that made her feel a little giddy in her lower stomach.

"You can have my number if you buy me a drink when my shift is over."

His head snapped up to look at her again, fucked out by the naughty glint in her eyes. There was no way this was happening.

"When do you finish?"

"Thirty minutes," she placed to pints of Amstel on the counter before him, sliding them his way.

Harry blindly reached into his back pocket for his wallet but she shook her head. "It's on the house."

He swallowed thickly, not liking how easily she had his pants tightening. "Thank you..." his eyes trailed down to the pinned name badge on her waist apron, "...Y/N."

She liked a little too much how her name rolled off his tongue. Y/N had never been like this with a customer before, she had no idea what had gotten into her, but that didn't mean she was going to stop.

"You're welcome..."

"Harry," he finished for her.

She hummed, a small nod to follow. Pretty name for a pretty boy, she thought. They remained staring at one another for possibly a moment too long, other patrons waiting for their drinks growing a little ansty.

"Come find me in thirty?"

Harry grinned, cheekily. "I'll see you then."

//

Tag list:

@kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 3

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4990

AN: Y'all are getting fed with this one. Have fun. :)

Click here for Part 2!

Thanks to @mostlymarvelsstuff for helping with some Russian translations lol.

DAY 34

“Do you have everything ready? Your presentation, your notes?” your dad asks.

“Yes, yes,” you tell him for what feels like the thousandth time. 

“This is where the comeback starts,” your dad says, and sometimes you wish he would just claim back his title. You were sick and tired of his coaching, even if you needed it a little bit. But if Envy Industries had gotten into this mess because of you, then you were the only person who could get them out of it. “I know I can’t be there in person–”

“I know, I know,” you dismiss. You were well aware of his vacation plans to the Maldives with his new girlfriend. Besides Envy, it was the only thing he wanted to talk about nowadays. But you still didn’t even know her name, and were certain he’d find a new one before the end of his trip.

“Tony will be there with you, right? He’ll keep you on track,” your dad continues, inching into sensitive territory now. Even though he denied it every time you confronted him, you knew he was always worried about you stepping into the CEO role because you were a woman. Hearing the doubts from the public and the competition hardly bothered you, but from your own father, it was like a punch to the face. Especially when you were not exactly proving him wrong given how things had played out since your first day.

“Who cares if Tony is there or not?” you snap, losing your patience. “He’s not the one giving the presentation. He’ll just be standing behind the curtain, stealing all the free merch, and–”

“Okay, that’s enough,” your dad cuts you off. “I want you to call me again tomorrow. We’ll run over your presentation again–”

“I’ll think about it.” You slam the handset on the receiver, a satisfying motion that could not be accomplished with modern telephonic devices. You try not to give the upcoming presentation any more thought–it was already stressing you out enough. Maybe an hour in the gym would take your mind off things. 

Your decision made, you step away from your desk to your private walk-in closet, rifling through the selection of workout clothes hanging there. All of them were custom-cut to your exact body dimensions to ensure the best fit and look. Although you were no professional athlete, you treated yourself as if you were one (and you certainly looked the part). 

But right now, you couldn’t care less what you looked like or what you were wearing as you grabbed the first set of clothes you could reach, slipping them on and grabbing your Louis Vuitton gym bag, monogrammed with your initials. You lightly jog out of your office, moving fast enough that people will think you’re in a rush and not stop you. The gym is on the tenth floor of the building, and because it’s just after lunch, most people are back at their desks. But you set your own schedule, so you’re happy to find that it isn’t too crowded and you quickly get warmed up before you start lifting.

In between sets, you check your phone, a bad habit that doesn’t exist when you’re with your training coach, but he’s not around to scold you, so you can do as you please. In the tracking app, Natasha’s red dot blinks in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, hardly three miles away from your current location in Envy Industries. 

She was hanging out at Black Widow Corporation headquarters, just where you expected her to be. She had an unsurprisingly predictable schedule, splitting her time just between work and home, which you discovered was in an apartment just a few blocks down the street from yours. You wonder if she lived on her own or with her father, who was likely paying for her housing either way. 

Natasha was not quite the self-made woman that you were. Her work was significantly more behind the scenes, which was one reason why you had never heard of her before. Alexei Shostakov was the only name you associated with Black Widow Corp. But you had done your own digging on her and her family the past few days. There was frustratingly little about Natasha and you were ready to hire a private investigator due to your lack of results. 

All you had learned was that she had graduated magna cum laude from Virginia Tech with a degree in economics, where she also held a brief internship at the university’s infamous Gamma Lab before it was shut down after the sudden death of its lead researcher. You assumed she had gone immediately to work for Black Widow Corp after her graduation; there was no other work history for her anywhere. No social media, no public interviews. This woman fascinated you more and more. 

After a final set of deadlifts, you re-rack all the weights because you’re not that much of a heathen and check your phone again. Natasha is no longer at Black Widow Corp, her red dot moving steadily through 86th Street that cut through Central Park. Your heart rate jumps, and not because of your workout. You sit down on a bench to steady yourself, watching as the red dot continues through Central Park. When she turns right on Park Avenue, you know exactly where she’s heading.

Hopefully you could intercept her first.

***********************************************************************

“Where are you going?” 

Natasha curses under her breath as she turns around to see Yelena standing in the lobby, her arms crossed over her chest like a scorned mother catching her child sneaking out of the house.

“What?” Natasha rounds on her sister, annoyed that she’s been watching her like a hawk.

“The board of directors meeting starts in seven minutes,” Yelena says, and Natasha curses under her breath because she forgot all about that.

“Dad can handle it without me,” Natasha replies, eager to get the heat off of her as soon as she can.

“They’ll be talking about CES,” Yelena reminds her, referencing the important annual show where the biggest tech companies came together in Vegas to reveal their newest inventions and products.

“You’re not going to CES,” Natasha points out, surprised her sister even knows its proper name. Since the company was going to fall on her shoulders once their father stepped down, Natasha had spent almost the entirety of her adult life learning, training, and breathing business and technology. Yelena had been able to pursue her own hopes and dreams, starting in the private security field until she had enough experience (and enough of Dad’s money) to start her own company. She was happy and thriving, something Natasha was endlessly jealous of.

Yelena had never experienced the pressure of managing billions of dollars in and out the door. She didn’t know what it was like to fight off every insecure man who couldn’t bear to do a business deal with a woman. She hadn’t spent hundreds of hours trying to learn coding languages and complicated mathematics and equations on her own. Yelena didn’t understand what Natasha had spared her from, and Natasha was afraid she would never be grateful for it.

“Yes, but you’re going to CES,” Yelena says.

“You’re not my babysitter,” Natasha snaps, turning away and marching towards the door. 

“You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?”

“What?” Natasha stops. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“That CEO you’re in love with.”

“Excuse me?” But Natasha’s face is flaming red as she struts over to confront her sister. “I am not in love with anyone. You know that.”

“You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with that CEO.”

“No, I’m not.”

Yelena smirks. “I own a private security company, sestra. You don’t think I know my own sister’s whereabouts and who she’s with?”

Natasha’s heart sinks, but she tries not to let it show. “Why can’t you ever just mind your own fucking business?” she growls, immediately regretting the harshness of her words when she sees her sister’s face fall. But she’s too proud to take it back.

“I don’t think it’s safe if you keep seeing her,” Yelena says. “And you don’t know what it could do for the company–”

“Why do you care about the company so much all of a sudden?” Natasha counters. “Dad’s not giving it to you when he steps down.”

“I don’t want it,” Yelena replies, although she looks hurt. “But to be quite honest, I don’t like what it’s turning you into.”

“Which is what?”

“This!” Yelena waves her arms at Natasha frantically. “It’s always ‘Black Widow this, Black Widow that.’ You don’t have any hobbies anymore. You never eat dinner with the rest of the family. You don’t go out unless it’s to see that CEO–”

Natasha interrupts her with a huff. “You wouldn’t understand, Yelena,” she says, trying a different approach and maintaining complete calm. “You can just stay holed up in your one-windowed office to spy on people and let the real adults go out in the real world and handle real shit.” With that, she spins on her heel and storms out of the building. 

***********************************************************************

“Why are you into shooting all of a sudden? Have you ever even held a gun before?” Tony asks, staring at you with a dropped jaw.

You shrug. “I need some new hobbies,” you lie.

“You’re not going to shoot someone with it, are you?” he half-jokes, his chuckle quickly dying up when you don’t laugh with him.

“No, of course not,” you mumble unconvincingly.

“Okay, well, when do you need the gun by?” he asks.

“How fast does Bucky work?”

Tony shrugs. “If I call him now, he can have one to me by the end of the day.”

“Okay.” The sooner the better, because it gave you less time to back out of your plan. “That works.”

“So, are we going big-game hunting in Africa this summer?” Tony asks, giving you a sharp nudge before starting his car.

“Maybe, maybe…” But you have a different target in mind.

The gun is surprisingly heavy, oily, and unfamiliar in your palm. Bucky had gone over the four “rules” of gun handling, which shocked you that he even knew:

Treat every gun like it was loaded

Don’t point it at something you aren’t willing to shoot.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.

Be mindful of your target and what’s around it.

He had given you a full box of ammo for “good luck” too, before jumping back into his car and driving away faster than you could read his license plate.

Currently, you sit in the darkness of your apartment, weighing the gun in your hand. Your heart is beating so hard against your ribcage you swear you can hear it. 

You check your phone. Natasha’s just parked her car in the parking garage. It should only take her a few minutes to ride the elevator up. You hadn’t even bothered to change out of your workout clothes, worried that she would arrive at your apartment before you did, but you had just barely made it on time.

Her red dot blinks in place on your screen. She’s in the elevator.

Your eyes flit to the front door, the gun feeling even heavier in your hand. 

The seconds drag on. 

You hold your breath for as long as you can between inhalations, heart pounding, ears straining for any sound of movement outside your apartment door.

Beep, beep.

A key card–yours–registers at the door lock. The handle pushes down from the outside and you snap to attention. 

Don’t miss, you tell yourself.

The door parts open, almost hesitantly, like your uninvited intruder is suddenly unsure of themselves. In the darkness, you see a figure slip through the door and close it behind her. Her body shape gives her away immediately. The thick thighs in black jeans, the curve of her hips leading up to her narrow waist, the fullness of her bosom stretching out the tight shirt she’s wearing.

When Natasha steps into the light, she freezes when she sees you sitting at the kitchen table, gun cocked in her direction.

“It’s about time you showed up,” you greet. “Building security didn’t question you when you used my key card to get in?”

“Clearly not,” Natasha says, her stance tense and wary.

“Come sit down. We should talk,” you invite, gesturing with the gun and breaking Bucky’s rule number one. Natasha stiffly walks towards you, her face an impassive shadow. You’ve never seen her genuinely scared before and it delights you that for once, you have the upper hand on her. You kick out a chair and she sits next to you. 

“Didn’t expect this, did you?” you ask. “Probably thought you could just waltz right in here and steal more of my shit?”

“Y/N–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re tired of listening to her excuses. You rest the gun on the table. “Is Black Widow going to CES?”

“Yes,” she says. “Like we do every year–”

“Well, there’s going to be some changes this year,” you interrupt. “Get your phone out. Call your dad. Black Widow Corp is going to be a no-show this year.”

Natasha balks. “That…That won’t be possible.”

You pick the gun back up and point it at her, breaking rule number two. “Then make it possible.”

“You won’t shoot me.”

“You don’t think this is real?” You point the gun at the table. Rule number three. You pull the trigger. Rule number four. The gun bucks in your hand, the blast reverberating around your apartment with enough power to rattle your teeth. Natasha flinches even though you hadn’t aimed anywhere near her. “No one can hear us,” you say with a chuckle. “I had the apartment soundproofed years ago to stop the neighbors from complaining.” 

She stares at the gun.

“Take your phone out now. And call your dad.” You hope you don’t have to ask again.

With shaking hands, she finally obeys, placing her phone on the table. “Put it on speakerphone,” you demand. Natasha presses a few buttons and you hear the dial-up tone.

“Privet, doch',” Alexei booms.

“English,” you hiss.

“Hi, Dad,” Natasha says, side-eyeing you uncertainly. “We, uh…We need to talk about CES.”

“Good, I just got out of the meeting with the board–”

“Black Widow can’t show up this year.”

Alexei’s surprise is palpable. “What, Natasha? What are you talking about?”

“We need to call off our appearance,” she says, her voice shaking. “Just for this year. We’ll go again next year like we normally do–”

“What’s wrong with this year?” Alexei asks.

Natasha looks at you, her eyes begging. You shake the gun to remind her you’re serious. “I…uh…I don’t think our tech is ready for the show,” she says. “You know how disastrous it can be if we unveil something that isn’t completely ready.”

“But we’ve been working on Project Transformer for months, Natasha. It’s plenty ready–”

“No. Dad, please.” She grits her teeth. “I was looking through the code last night with the engineers. There’s a bug in the programming. It’s going to take at least a few weeks to smooth out. We can’t debut right now, Dad.”

Alexei curses in Russian. “Shit. The board really liked our presentation.”

“I know.”

“I wish you would have told me earlier.”

“I know,” Natasha repeats. “But we only just discovered it this week.” 

There is more silence, punctuated by Russian grumblings from Alexei. “Okay, okay. I’ll make a few calls. Too bad we’ll be losing out on our reservation fee too.”

“It’s a small price to pay.” Natasha’s eyes dart to you again. “Sorry for all the trouble, Dad.”

“Where are you?” Alexei asks. “We missed you at the meeting.”

“I’m out.”

“Will you come to dinner tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. Proshchay, dorogaya.”

“Bye, Dad.” Alexei hangs up first.

You slowly clap your hands. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” Your chest swells with pride at your achievement. Maybe now she would have more respect for you. You know she only saw you as a piece of meat. But you were much, much more than that.

“Fuck you,” Natasha spits.

“Oh, are we still doing that?” You put the gun down on the table, this time facing it away from her. You part your legs slightly, inviting her between them. Natasha glares at you with emerald daggered eyes. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you say, your voice deepening. “I got what I wanted today. It’s only fair you don’t leave here empty-handed too.”

Natasha shoots up and marches over to you. For a second, you think she’s going to hit you, but instead she straddles your lap and kisses you so hard you’re sure she’s bruised your lips. The ferocity is both frightening and arousing as she tears off your workout shirt and shorts. She palms at your left breast roughly, sinking her nails into your abs and dragging them down to your belly button. You groan into her mouth when she bites your bottom lip. She’s never been this aggressive with you before, but you know she’s taking out her frustration on you.

And you absolutely love it.

“Now that I’m done fucking with your company, you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk?” you whisper, shoving your bare thigh between her legs. The friction from her jeans burns your skin, but you hardly register the pain. 

“You’ll have to carry me out,” Natasha says, trailing her fingers down the vein on your bicep.

“Deal.” You kiss her again, slipping your muscular arms under her thighs and standing up with her. You carry her to your bed, leaving her to undress while you grab your strap from its drawer and slip it over your legs. When you turn back, she’s shimmying off her lacy black panties and the feral urge to keep your promise overrides all your senses. 

You pick her back up and she hooks her legs around your waist, her arms circling your neck. She presses her naked chest against yours, both of you moaning in unison when your nipples brush together. You walk with her until Natasha’s back bumps into the wall, shifting her weight off your arms to the wall. You maneuver your right hand to grab onto your strap, lining it up with Natasha’s center. 

“Are you ready for me?” you ask, rubbing the tip of your cock over her soaking entrance. Natasha’s whines at your teasing, her fingers tangling in your hair and jerking at your roots painfully. 

“Fucking ruin me,” she begs.

You slam your hips forward, burying your entire cock in her in one move. Natasha screams, tearing her nails down your back. Your big hands grip onto her waist to hold her in place as you thrust into her tight heat, your abs flexing and tensing. Natasha’s body rolls with yours, her head falling back against the wall, exposing the perfect column of her neck to you. You lean forward to decorate it with your marks, so every time she undresses for the next week, she’ll be reminded of you.

The only item of “clothing” she still wears is a thin silver necklace with a rectangular charm hanging from the chain. It bounces in the hollow of her throat every time you thrust into her.

“Y/N, oh, Y/N,” Natasha chants, music to your ears as you keep your relentless pace. Your thighs, already spent from your gym session, are absolutely on fire now, so you need her to finish quickly before you drop her. You shift the angle of your hips, bumping the top of your cock against her clit with every stroke. Natasha squirms and moans, trying to find a rhythm with you, but she’s so close she can’t match you at all. 

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum, baby,” you pant. 

“Soon,” she moans. “Go harder. Don’t stop.”

You’re afraid you’re going to break her with how hard you’re thrusting into her. But finally, her body tenses in your hands and you know she’s finished all over your cock. You’re grateful to slow your thrusts as she comes down from her high, your entire body sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline. You slip your arms under her quivering thighs and stumble back to the bed, collapsing onto it with your legs hanging off the edge, Natasha panting on top of you. 

You’re not sure who’s more exhausted, you or her. You lay there unmoving, trying to catch your breath, which Natasha does before you. She sits up, slowly pulling your cock out of her and crawling up your body to kiss you messily. Her tongue slips into your mouth, but you’re too tired to return her fervor very much. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I too much for you?” she teases, cupping your chest and pinching your nipples. 

“No, just give me a minute,” you grumble. It was rare to meet someone with stamina like hers. And as much as you prided yourself on yours, you feel like you may have met your match with Natasha Romanoff. Your arms and chest are covered in her scratch marks, and your back still stings a little. Natasha traces the scratches gently.

“Mine,” she murmurs.

“Hmm?” you grunt, not sure if you heard her correctly.

She props herself up on your chest to look at you. “I can give you a minute,” she purrs, her voice becoming husky and seductive. Natasha slides down your body, resting her knees on the floor and tugging the harness of your strap down your legs. You can hardly lift your hips high enough off the bed to help her, embarrassed by how tired you are. Natasha grabs your calves to lift your feet up one at a time to remove the harness and throw it to the side. She rubs her hand  across your defined abdomen, stoking the fire in your belly again.

“Don’t move, baby,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Huh?” You lift your head high enough to see Natasha’s head between your legs, her mouth lowering onto you. It’s like a lightning bolt of pleasure that shoots through your core and you moan loudly in appreciation. Natasha makes eye contact with you as she slips her tongue into you, smiling as you pant and squirm. 

“Oh, God. Fuck me,” you gasp, dropping your head back on the bed. Your hands claw at the sheets as her tongue explores your walls. Natasha pushes apart your muscular thighs to make more room for her, pushing so deep into you her nose bumps against you. Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe evenly, arching your lower back off the bed in a silent plea for more. 

Natasha eats you out like she’d been starving for a week, her tongue alternating between swirling around your throbbing clit and pushing through your clenching walls.

You finally find the strength to lift your right leg, twisting it sideways at the knee and hooking it around the back of Natasha’s head, pressing your calf against her scalp and dragging her closer. You reach down with your hand to tangle it in Natasha’s flaming red hair, pushing her down so she isn’t tempted to pull away right when you reach the edge of release. 

“Nat,” you whine. “Please, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Natasha hums against you, the vibrations finally causing you to lose control. Your entire body goes limp as Natasha cleans up all the slick between your legs, then climbs back up to rest on you like you’re her personal pillow.

“Gimme a kiss,” you mumble and Natasha presses her lips to yours obediently. She tucks her head in the crook of your collarbone and you stroke her hair absently. “If I fall asleep, are you gonna leave again before I wake up?” you ask, your voice sounding small. 

“Only if you want me to,” Natasha murmurs. 

“I know I’m supposed to hate you, but I don’t know if I can,” you admit.

“Then don’t,” Natasha says. “Because I was thinking about it too, and…I think we should go public.”

“Public? Like us being…” You can’t even finish your own sentence.

“Mhmm.” Natasha nods against your chest.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” you scoff.

“No, I’m fucking you.”

“And you’re done. Right?” Your eyebrows scrunch together at the dual meaning of your words. Natasha doesn’t say anything. “At the very least, you owe me fifteen-billion-dollars before we can go public about anything,” you say, referencing the amount your company lost in the last month when Black Widow Corp pulled the rug out from under your feet.  

“Done.” Natasha searches around your bed for her phone. “What’s your bank account number?” 

“What are you doing? Seriously.” You’re a little lost now. 

“Well, our dads spent all their time fighting each other,” she says.

“Not fucking?” you joke.

“I can’t confirm that,” she says with a smirk. “But I was thinking about it. And I know Envy hasn’t been doing so well lately–”

“Because you sabotaged our contracts and stole our ideas,” you remind her.

Again, Natasha does not confirm nor deny this fact. “But what if instead of competing, we…helped each other out?”

“Like a collaboration?” you ask. Your father had specifically warned you against any kind of “collaboration” work with another company. You weren’t running a YouTube channel. You had a multibillion-dollar business. It was your responsibility to look out for the well-being of your company and your company only, damn philanthropic endeavors, personal favors, and relationships.

“We can work something out,” Natasha insists.

“Did you go through all of this just to ask me that?” you ask.

“No.” Now, Natasha looks away from you. “I mean, at first, yes. I thought you would just be a hot one-night stand. And yes, you were–” You raise an eyebrow. “–But you’re also a lot more than that.” Validation burns through your veins to hear this. “You’re smart, you know the tech, and you know how to run a business. And you’re the hottest CEO in the country and the best person who’s ever taken me to bed,” Natasha says. You think you’re going to combust at the praise. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about us. And what we could accomplish together.”

It takes a few seconds to let her words process. “I don’t know how this could work,” you say, the logical side of you taking over for once. “We’re not regular people, Nat. The future of this country is literally in our hands. The public watches our every move and criticizes every decision we make. People like us need whole PR teams to manage their relationships.”

“Fuck the PR teams,” Natasha says. “If we like each other, then why can’t we be together?”

It had been years since you had publicly been in a relationship with someone. After all, it was so much simpler to cycle through partners and not have to worry about commitment or any long-term decisions. But deep down, you were cripplingly lonely and terrified you wouldn’t be able to find someone who would settle with you. 

Because truth be told, your lifestyle was not for many. Most people couldn’t handle the pressure you were subjected to every day. The never-ending torrents of judgment. The borderline-criminal way you were stalked by reporters and paparazzi. The unreal expectations you were held to by people you’d never even met.

But out of all the people you had ever been with, Natasha Romanoff was the one with the best chance of understanding all that. She knew what she was getting herself into, because your life would be her reality the day her father passed on the company. Of course it wouldn’t hurt her to get some practice beforehand.

“I want you to be mine,” Natasha says suddenly. She reaches up to her neck, her fingers brushing the hickeys you left there, before unclipping the silver necklace. She puts it around yours, flipping the charm around so you can see that it reads “Natasha.”

“Baby…” You didn’t even care what your dad’s reaction to hearing the news would be. How would the public react? The consumers? The shareholders? At your level, it was unavoidable crossing the line between professional and personal interests. People would either cheer you on or vow to never use another Envy product again.

But Envy had been tanking ever since you took the helm. Maybe this was what you needed to bounce back…courtesy of the same woman who ruined you in the first place. The math seemed to add up–Natasha would cancel out herself, wouldn’t she?

Natasha interlaces her fingers with yours, distracting your thinking. “We could be the most powerful couple in the tech industry. In the world,” she says. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“Yes,” you sigh, although that’s not really the truth. There was one thing you wanted more than power, money, and fame.

“Then don’t be afraid, sweetheart.” She squeezes your fingers. “With me, you’ll have everything you want and more.”

A rush of emotions suddenly overwhelms you–fear, annoyance, love, envy, and venom. You would kick yourself in the head if you missed out on the chance to be with Natasha, but you also weren’t entirely convinced this was the right move. 

“Y/N.” The way she says your voice is desperate and pleading, like she too can’t be without you.

“Okay.” You make up your mind in an instant. “Okay, baby. Let’s do it.”

Natasha beams, snuggling closer to you. The two of you say nothing further, and her steady breathing quickly lulls you to sleep. Natasha holds onto you even as she feels your body relax under her. She turns her head to look at the gun you left on the table, wondering what it would feel like in her hand, to hold against your head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: These two are for real going to be the death of me. 😩

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

[jobean12-blog]

Twisted Games

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 2.816

Summary: You never win when you play games with Joel but while losing in a game of Twister you get an idea that might just make you a winner...or not.

Author's Note: I just love the idea of all the tension and teasing but honestly...I'd never last haha. Thank you all so much for reading! Muhch love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, teasing, fun, tension, fluff, spiciness, established relationship.

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

You’re practically in a bow pose with two feet spread out on different colors and one hand behind you on another. Your back is arched and your chest is right in Joel’s face. He’s smiling over you and licking his lips.

“I love this game,” he chuckles deviously. “Next time we play naked.”

You roll your eyes and spin the Twister wheel with your one free hand.

“Shit,” you mutter when you see what it lands on. “Ok! I can do this!”

When you start to move your body your position becomes even more precarious and now you’re pressed closer to him. His lips touch your collarbone in a soft kiss.

“Don’t! That’s so unfair!” you whine.

“Aw come on darlin.’ I can’t resist!”

You sigh and refocus but to no avail. The moment you reach your hand to the next colored circle your body collapses to the mat. He’s instantly on you, pinning you to the Twister mat and grinning down at you.

“UGH! I’m never playing anything with you again!”

“Aw come on darlin.’ Don’t be a sore loser now.”

You try to get your arms under his chest so you can push him off you but it’s hard to move.

“Get off me!”

He kisses you instead.

“Don’t be mad,” he coos against your lips. “It’s just a game.”

You manage to wiggle your arms free in his distracted state and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Joel…”

“Hmm?” he hums while trailing his lips along your jaw.

He stops just below your ear and kisses your skin softly before nipping your earlobe.

“You want me to start letting you win?” he whispers.

“No!” you huff and it quickly dissolves into sigh as he continues to place kisses down your neck.

His free hand pushes at your knee and he spreads your legs wide, settling between them and rocking his hips.

“See, this is why Twister is my favorite game…” he murmurs as the same hand sneaks down your stomach.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, letting your legs fall open even wider. “It’s all a win for you!”

“Damn right it is,” he says, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your leggings.

You drag your hands down his back and crane your neck to give his lips better access.

Suddenly you go still and your lips spread into a mischievous grin.

“What?” he grumbles, lifting his eyes to yours.

“I know a game I can win at….”

He raises a challenging brow.

You narrow your eyes and try to bump him off you.

“Nuh uh darlin.’ Start talkin’.”

“Fine, but don’t you start distracting me,” you warn.

His fingertips trace the outline of your panties but nothing more as he looks at you expectantly.

“Ok. So. I bet I can hold out longer for sex.”

“What?” he asks again, stopping his movement. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t but...I know I can beat you at least.”

He’s silent for a few seconds and your eyes wander over his face, your fingers absentmindedly grazing the outline of his beard and the gray patches throughout. You can still feel the warmth of his hand between your legs and the hardness between his and you start to second guess your idea.

“Fine,” he says. “But how long are we doing this for?”

You open your mouth but he quickly cuts you off.

“Any more than three days is a hard NO.”

Your lips lift into a sideways smirk. “This is going to be easier than I thought.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” you say and pop the p. “Three days it is! Since that seems to be your limit,” you snicker.

His fingers begin to move again, teasingly inching downward.

“Are we starting today?” he asks.

He brushes a finger along the damp fabric and gives you a wink.

“No,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

“That’s good,” he croons as he pushes the fabric to the side.

The morning sun rises and warms the bedroom, bathing it in a soft golden light as you begin to awaken.

Joel’s strong arm is draped over your waist and his bare chest is pressed to your back.

“Mornin’ darlin’ he mumbles, tugging you closer.

“Hi,” you whisper and snuggle into him.

He hitches a leg over your thigh and you feel him pulse against you. He starts to kiss your neck as his hand splays at your stomach and pushes your shirt up.

You drag your teeth over your bottom lip, both to stifle your low moan of pleasure and your near victory cheer.

With a wiggle you silently ask for more but suddenly he tenses behind you.

“FUCK,” he groans and rolls away from you.

“HEY!” you pout, sitting up and staring at him.

“Don’t hey me!” he says, running a hand through his already mussed mess of dark curls. “I’m going to take a cold shower.”

You watch him walk off to the bathroom and fall back with a thump onto your pillow.

“SO CLOSE!” you whisper shout to yourself.

When he’s ready to leave for work, he sets his coffee in the sink and wraps you in his arms, drawing out a sweet kiss that turns much more heated once he cages you against the counter and his hands start to wander.

“Joel,” you whine, chasing his lips when he pulls away.

“See you later darlin’,” he purrs with a wink.

You leave for work shortly after, clearly distracted and frustrated.

“What’s up your ass today?” Tommy asks Joel as they load materials into the back of the pick-up truck.

Joel just glares in his brother’s direction.

“Fine,” Tommy says with a lopsided smile. “Don’t share.”

By the time you get home from work your mood has soured and you’re not even sure why you proposed the idea. You’re horny and frustrated and you want to blame Joel.

“Hi darlin’,” he says when he walks in an hour later. “How was your day?”

You shrug and mumble, “uneventful. You?”

“Other than Tommy being a usual pain in my ass, the same,” he answers and sits down next to you.

He rests his hand on your knee and starts to rub small circles with his thumb, his other hand snaking around your neck to pull you closer for a kiss.

You crawl into his lap and straddle his waist, melting into the kiss and dragging your hands down his chest.

His fingers dance along your thighs and he sighs out your name when you start to press your lips to his neck.

“I hate this game,” he whispers.

You want to agree but your competitive side wins out in the moment and you lean back and give him a smug smile.

“We’re almost through day one!” you sing.

“And I haven’t lost yet!” he shoots back.

“Forty-eight more hours to go…” you taunt.

He stops your wiggling, keeping you still on his lap.

“I’m starving,” he grumbles and gently lifts you off him. “Let’s have dinner.”

You let out an exasperated sigh and huff.

“This is your fault,” he says as he opens the fridge. “You can just give up now and I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time.”

He looks over at you with dark eyes filled with promise.

“Let just make dinner,” you mutter and peel yourself off the couch.

The next morning starts in much the same way except this time it’s you that tears yourself away first and stomps to the bathroom.

Joel follows right behind and opens the shower curtain, stepping under the hot water with you.

“What are you doing?” you squeak.

“Taking a shower. I usually get in first…”

He smiles as the water runs down his skin. Your eyes follow the rivulets, watching them closely as they meander over the dips and curves of his muscles.

“You don’t play fair,” you hiss.

“I’m gonna be late,” he counters.

He reaches over you to grab his shampoo.

“Joel…keep that thing away from me.”

He stays close, deliberately bumping into you as much as possible.

“What? The shower isn’t that big. You’re naked. What do you expect?” he says with a nonchalant shrug.

You turn to face him and hold out your body wash. “Do my back?” you ask sweetly.

He purses his lips and glares.

“Sure darlin’” he answers through gritted teeth.

He lathers the wash in his hands and starts to smooth them along your shoulders and back. He traces the curve of your spine and your ass, squeezing and massages as he goes. You lean into him, feeling him hard against your back.

His hands slide around your waist to your stomach and he reaches up to your breasts, kneading them softly as he washes. Then he moves lower and you instinctively arch into his touch and spread your legs.

“Fucking hell,” he growls. “You’re clean enough!”

With that he quickly rinses his hair and rips the shower curtain open, grabbing a towel and grumbling all the way back to the bedroom.

You turn the water cold and let it run over your heated skin, resting your head to the tiles and silently cursing yourself.

“Think Tommy and I are gonna start on the garden bed tomorrow,” Joel says when you come down the steps. “This way you can start planting.”

Your face brightens and you rush to him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Really?” you ask. “Are you done with the other job?”

“We will be today,” he says and pulls you in for a kiss.

The two of you manage to get through dinner that night and go to sleep cuddling. You let the exhaustion of the day take over and will yourself to sleep.

The sky is still dark with only a sliver of orange glow peeking out over the horizon when you wake to Joel’s incoherent mumbling.

His arm slips around your waist and he tugs you into him and his hands start to roam, softly tracing your curves while his lips find your shoulder.

You hum in pleasure and turn to face him, pressing closer.

He starts to tug at your panties and push your thighs apart.

“Joel?” you whisper, realizing he’s half asleep.

When all he does is sigh your name you take his face in your hands and start to pepper him with kisses.

“Baby, wake up.”

His eyes pop open and he looks at you sleepily.

“Why did you wake me?” he asks. “You ok?”

“I’m fine,” you whisper.

“I was having the best dream,” he sighs.

As he starts to wake up more and realize his position he gets grumpier.

“I wasn’t dreaming,” he says more to himself than you. “This fucking sucks!”

He rolls away and rubs his hands over his face.

“Then just give in and lose,” you say quietly.

His eyes find yours and you can see the war of emotions whirling inside them.

“Darlin’…”

With a pained expression he pushes off the bed and goes to shower, locking the door behind him.

“Damn it!” you groan when you hear it click. “So close again!”

You’ve taken the day off to prepare your seedlings and do some last-minute shopping. Tommy shows up with a smile and a hug and whispers, “what’s been his problem this week?”

You steel yourself and give him a shake of your head. “No idea! Why?”

“Well, something crawled up his ass because he’s been grumpier than usual!”

With a laugh you give Tommy a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and turn away so he can’t see your expression of glee. At least you’re extra sure Joel’s suffering too.

You leave the boys to go to the garden store, enjoying strolling around and taking your time. When you return with several new plants you find Joel and Tommy hard at work.

“Hey darlin’” Joel says when you pull up and roll down the window.

He rests the shovel in the soil and puts his hand on his hip, popping his knee out as he exhales.

“Need help carrying anything?”

As he waits for an answer you just stare, sweeping your eyes over him from head to toe.

He’s just sweaty enough. His tan skin glistening in the sunlight and his dark hair sticking to the back of his neck. His tee shirt is clinging to the outline of his broad shoulders and the muscles in his forearms flex and bulge as he adjusts the shovel and starts digging again. His dark jeans are pulled tight over his thick thighs and his hands dwarf the handle of the tool.

Tommy watches the whole exchange with a bemused expression.

“Did you need help?” Joel asks again after he throws a few more shovels full of soil in the planter.

“Huh?” you ask, clearly dazed.

He stabs the shovel into the ground and wipes his hands on his jeans, rounding the car and tapping on the trunk.

You open it but stay in the car and watch him carry your plants to the steps.

“You ok?” Tommy asks as he leans on the window.

“Fine,” you say quietly as you watch Joel bend down. “I’m just hot…and thirsty,” you trail off.

Tommy moves away when you open the door.

“Want something?” you ask him.

“Sure, something cold would be nice.”

You nod and head into the house, skirting Joel who’s rearranging your plants and avoiding any eye contact with either of them.

You pour three glasses of cold lemonade with ice and lift one to your lips, drinking down some of the cool liquid then pressing it to your face to cool your skin.

“Fuck,” you mutter quietly and turn to look out the front window.

Joel’s carrying tools from the truck and every time he lifts something his shirt rides up and exposes the dark trail of hair below his belly button.

You’re so thirsty.

You take another long gulp then set the glass down and lean against the counter. Your lost in your lascivious thoughts and never hear Joel come in. It isn’t until he’s close enough that you can smell his distinct scent that you startle and find his dark gaze on you.

“Tommy said you were gettin’ drinks,” he states and inches closer, slowly and carefully like he’s approaching a feral animal.

“I was,” you breathe out and enjoy a closer look at him.

He stands toe to toe with you and says your name in a questioning tone. You snap out of your pensive state and focus your eyes on his handsome face. He’s studying you with a look that’s intense and at the same time his eyes sparkle.

He removes the glass from your hand and sets it on the counter, taking your palm and kissing it softly.

“Still,” he starts and checks his watch, “nine hours left in the day.”

“Oh,” you say softly, your breath hitching when he turns your hand in his and kisses along your knuckles. “Shouldn’t you get back to work?”

Your words are weak and you’re giving everything away- and he knows it.

“You’re about to lose at your own game darlin’,” he simpers.

His words momentarily clear your head and you press yourself back against the counter, putting a small amount of space between you both.

“Why me?” you ask. “You’re the one who came in house looking for trouble.”

He grabs your waist and before you can protest you’re pressed against every inch of him.

“Trouble?” he whispers along the shell of your ear.

You can feel how hard he is and it makes you shiver with anticipation.

“I’m warnin’ you darlin’.”

“Joel…”

He rubs the pad of calloused thumb across your bottom lip. The need to kiss you is overwhelming, but he somehow manages to hold back and simply brushes his lips over yours then dips his head to run his nose along the column of your neck with a deep inhale.

When he stops his mouth is hovering over your ear. “ Let me be clear darlin.’ Tonight when I finally get between those legs I’m going to fuck you over and over again to make up for the last three days. With my fingers, my tongue…my cock. You’re going to feel me every time you take a step.”

Your breath races in and out of your lungs, every part of you reacting to his promised words. But you’re unwilling to completely relinquish control so you trail your fingers down his stomach, reaching under his shirt to softly graze them through that dark trail of hair and loving how his muscles contract.

“You better.”

The words are whispered and breathy but you manage to get them out before gently pushing on his chest and slipping from his grasp.

His muttered curses are the last thing you hear before you rush up the steps for another cold shower.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989 @lizette50

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #established relationship

[charlesslut16]

hey babe i loved the max fic about the one wherereader pregnant, my idea/vision for part two is probably reader move somewhere probably england and live there fast forward years later they run into max. i think that's all i have thanks loveee

-gaining you to love-

summary : you and max meet again after all the trauma you had went trough

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none?

note : i hope that you like this and please request more!!!

masterlist ; Part 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Years had passed since you had last seen Max Verstappen. After the heartbreak, you had packed up your life and moved to England, seeking a fresh start away from the painful memories. 

You found solace in the quaint countryside and raised your child with the love and dedication that had always been your strength. In your heart, you still wished he and you could raise your child together.

But this would still always be your dream.

Your child, a vibrant and curious soul, grew up knowing about their father only through the carefully chosen stories you shared and the races you watched on television. 

It had never crossed your mind to not tell your child, who their father is. It just never felt right to you. How could you not allow your child to know the person that was one's your most loved person and their dad.

Max’s name was synonymous with greatness in the world of Formula 1, and even though you had distanced yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride every time his name was mentioned.

One crisp autumn afternoon, you were out shopping in the bustling streets of London with your now four-year-old child. The city had a way of making you feel both anonymous and connected, a perfect blend for the life you had built.

It was not the perfect life you had chosen, but it was as perfect as it could be. As you walked through the crowded market, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Max, your max, standing just a few feet away. He looked different, older, more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. 

He had the same smile and the same voice, both features that broth you great happiness, a long time ago. Your heart skipped a beat, memories flooding back with an intensity that took your breath away.

“Max,” you whispered quiet, not quite believing your eyes. Max, your max, standing in front of you. Impossible, right? Your child looked up at you, sensing the shift in your emotions. 

Max took a step closer to the both of you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to confirm that you were real. If it was really the love of his life.“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said softly. “How have you been?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice, not sure if words would come out surely and understandable.“I’ve been…good. How about you? You’ve done well for yourself. You have grown more mature”

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile that had not shown like that, since you left.“Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. But I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

Before you could respond, your child tugged at your sleeve, looking curiously at Max. You did not thread this moment, but you sure were nervous.“Mommy, is that?”

You took a deep breath, kneeling down to your child’s level. “This is, Max,” you said gently. Not too sure if your child was ready for this important moment in their life.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at the child, realization dawning on him. It was his your child. The child he did not chose. “Is this…?” he began, his voice trailing off and cracking slightly.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes, Max. This is our child.”

He looked back at you, a mix of emotions playing across his face—shock, regret, longing. All because his younger self chose his career and not his family. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You agreed, and the three of you found a quiet café nearby. As you sat down, the tension was palpable. Your child, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, chattered happily about their favorite books and toys. 

Max listened intently, a soft smile on his face, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. He had never realized how the feeling of being content really felt until this exact moment.

Once your child was occupied with a coloring book, Max reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I was scared, and I handled it all wrong. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you listened to his words. “I was hurt, Max. So hurt. But I had to be strong for our child. I moved here to start over, to give them a good life.”

“You’ve done an incredible job,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “But I want to be part of their life. I want to be a part of your life. I want us back. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at your child, then back at Max. The pain of the past was still there, but so was the love you had always felt for him. And always will.“It won’t be easy,” you said softly. “But I want what’s best for our child. They deserve to know their father.”

Max nodded with a lift of his lip, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I want to be here for both of you. To have you both with me.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions as Max integrated himself into your life. He was patient and understanding, taking the time to get to know your child and to rebuild the trust between you. 

The bond that had once been so strong, that you had thought would never be like that, slowly began to mend, and the love you thought you had lost forever started to rekindle.

One evening, as you sat together in your cozy living room, your child asleep upstairs, Max turned to you with a serious expression. “I want to make up for lost time, Y/N. I want to be a family. Will you give me another chance?”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. The years of hurt and loneliness had taken their toll, but the love had never truly faded. “I want that too, Max,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve always wanted that. I had always hoped for a happy ending for us.”

Max pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both let the tears flow. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey. The pain of the past was still there, but it was overshadowed by the promise of a future together.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Max built a life together, full of love and laughter. Your child thrived, surrounded by the warmth of a united family. Max balanced his racing career with his newfound responsibilities, proving to be a devoted father and partner.

The journey had been long and painful, but it had led you to this moment—standing together at the finish line, not as competitors, but as a family. And as you looked at Max, you knew that despite everything, you had finally found your way back to each other.

In your heart, you had truly known that this would be the outcome. It was a dream that came through and even tho you all went to tremendous pain you would go through it as a family.

A family he chose.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen angst #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #formula one imagine #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction

[thegoldencontracts]

Housewardens React To Being Ignored As A Prank

Riddle Rosehearts

Collars you, no doubt about it.

Why are you ignoring him like this? If you have a problem, it's your responsibility to communicate it to him, is it not?

He's in a terrible mood the entire time. Why is his partner ignoring him like this? What has he done?

After finding out it's a prank, he'll end up inadvertently turning the tables. Not that he's ignoring you on purpose, he's just peeved, and he really doesn't want to see you right now.

Leona Kingscholar

He's mostly just annoyed with you, because this is obviously a poorly-planned prank. What exactly are you pulling on him?

Calls you out as quick as he can, and makes sure to inform you exactly how highly he thinks of that little thing.

He'll be a bit more grouchy, and yet, on the flip side, more clingy. Give the man his cuddles, please.

Azul Ashengrotto

Immediately gets to investigation. Why are you ignoring him? What exactly has he done? Or is it something pertaining to your mental health?

And pretty quickly, he finds you talking about your little prank. He's annoyed, but remains cordial as he confronts you.

He's definitely going to hold a grudge over this. If this is early on in your relationship, he'll really lay on the cold gentleman act.

If this is later on, though, and he knows he can trust you most of the time, he'll go the opposite direction with his reaction, and get real clingy. It's pretty cute, actually.

Kalim Al-Asim

Is just genuinely sad. Why would you do this to him?

He's really worried that he's accidentally acted careless and hurt you, since he's been told he does that. He does whatever he can to find out what he did wrong.

You're the one to end the thing with a profuse apology, and an odd sense of appreciation at having such a caring partner.

Willing to forgive you easily so long as you promise him you won't do this again.

Vil Schoenheit

Thinks you're immature and says that straight to your face. He doesn't realize it's a prank at first.

Then, he checks his magicam feed and sees a prank video of the sort, and it hits him.

Vil looks at you, unimpressed, and tells you those pranks are staged and that there's no point in emulating. You tell him you know.

The conversation quickly evolves into less of a talk about healthy communication and more commiseration over both of your feeds being spammed by content farms.

Idia Shroud

Immediately catches on.

Well, kinda. Ortho informs him immediately, to be specific. Thank Ortho for doing that, because he just saved Idia from a bunch of agonizing, and in turn, you from a massive grudge.

Idia's still huffy with you, asking why you'd do that, and don't you know he doesn't get this stuff, unlike the normies?

Afterwards, he's torn between wanting your reassurance and wanting to be mad at you. Help him out here, please.

Malleus Draconia

Deeply confused.

Has he done something wrong? Or is this some human ritual he was unaware of?

He asks Lilia, who proceeds to show him the magicam trend, with one little lamentation about how this little trend is half of his feed at this point, and he wants to stop it's spread.

Malleus understands now.

He tries to play along, he's just... Not very good at it.

"No, human, why are you ignoring me? I am incredibly confused because I do not know about the current trend, you see. This makes me worried and I will now proceed to say something that gets you those little 'likes'."

Said in the most deadpan voice ever.

Afterwards, Malleus gets into pranks. He keeps swapping cereals. He recently told Sebek ligma was a term of high respect, and it's all your fault.

Your comeuppance is Sebek calling you a ligma worthy of Malleus, it seems.

#riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland #fanfic #angst

[writingroom21]

Okay imagine this reader goes in a all boys school pretending to be a dude to cover up her brother but soon rafe later knows she's a girl since she's in the guys shower room😫

A/N: I literally love this idea so much. She's The Man is one of my favorite movies.

Boys Bathroom

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex(wrap it up), p in v, overstimulation, squirting, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi public sex (communal bathroom), (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.6K

The plan was simple. You would go to the school for two weeks and then swap places again. It shouldn’t be that hard to fool everyone since the two of you are twins. Since your parents found out they were having twins they got the two of you matching things. Your cribs, toys, clothes were all bought to match.

 The only downside was one of you is a girl and the other is a boy.

When the news was broken to them, they had mixed emotions. On one hand they get the best of both worlds with one of each. The other is that they planned on having the same gender twice. They tried to look past it and throughout childhood it was fine. Your dad had the perfect little boy to play catch and watch sports with. Your mom had a little angel that she could dress up and show around. 

It was all perfect until you hit puberty. Max, your brother stayed the perfect son that he always was. But you had become the wild child of the family. You weren’t really wild, just not the picture perfect daughter they had in mind. In middle school you started to not want your mom to dress you, leading to arguments about how you dressed.

Then now in highschool you are focused on being an artist, which isn’t an ambitious enough job for them. You would think that after their divorce they would stop agreeing with each other. But no they will always agree on one thing, you are too much to handle. They just don’t like how outspoken you are and how you will not conform to the version of you they want.

They focus on you so much they don’t even realize that it’s Max they should be worrying about. Sure he gets good grades and he never gets in trouble, it doesn’t mean he’s not doing things. You are always covering for him so he can sneak out of the house. Driving him around after he got so drunk with his friends that he can’t function. They don’t see that side of him so they worship the ground he walks on. 

They love him so much that they are now sending him to a prestigious all boys school. Max has been complaining about it all week since they told him. It’s a boarding school so he will be under 24/7 supervision. Which is a no in his books. Max has done everything basically to try and get out of this to no luck. Leading us to the moment the plan was formed.

“Come on please. Just do this one thing for me.” Max pleads at the end of your bed. You continue reading your book ignoring him and his weird request. He says your name to get your attention. “I’ll get you something when I come back. A token from Bora Bora sounds nice right?” You scoff at his audacity. “Dude I’m not going to pretend to be you so you can go on some vacation. It wouldn’t even work, you're a guy and I’m not.” Max throws himself on your bed, face planting onto the sheets. “If you do this for me I’ll get mom and dad to lay off your art school decision.” The book drops from your hands and you stare at him. You don’t have to think, getting them off your back is much needed. “Fine.”

The wig itches your scalp as you fix your clothes making sure your binding doesn’t come loose. The last thing you need is for it to come undone and your boobs come out. It;s the second day at the school, everyone seems to be buying that you are Max. Your best friend had shown you how to place wigs on, making sure that it can’t get loose. It seems to be staying in place so you can’t complain. You have to get used to squishing your boobs so much but it’ll be okay.

Your parent’s had splurged for Max to have his own dorm so you get to relax in your own space thank god. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for the boy next door. You had been unpacking when a knock interrupted you. Alright show time. You open the door to be greeted with one of the hottest guys you have ever seen. He has to be at least six feet tall, with hair you just want to wrap your fingers around. Don’t even get you started on his blue eyes. 

You were so caught up with checking him out that you didn’t notice he said something. “Hello?” He questions with this weird look. “Huh?” You clear your throat and make your voice deeper. “Sorry, what did you say?” You stand up straighter, trying to make you look taller. “Said I’m Rafe. I'm in the room right next door.” He points to the left. 

“Nice to meet you, I'm.” Your name almost slips out but you covered it with a cough. “My name's Max. Want to come in.” Rafe shrugs, entering and looking around your room. There’s not really much to look at. The walls are bare and the clothes are all put away. The desk has books for the classes you’ll be in and unfortunately a box of pads. Rafe spins around to you.

“Dude why the fuck do have those?” He practically shrieks. He’s pointing behind him and you follow it to see the box. Fuck you had forgotten to put them away. “Oh I have a twin sister that likes to prank me. She always packs something embarrassing in my bags.” You try to explain. Rafe listens as you fumble through your words, kinda weirded out that some dude has chick products.

“You have a twin?” He really doesn’t believe you. Instead of explaining further you pull out your phone, finding a picture of yourself to show him. Rafe looks at the photo and then at you trying to find similarities. “I can see it.” He looks closer at it again. “You know she’s kinda hot.” A blush forms on your cheeks. “Thank you.” Your eyes widen when you realize what you said.

“I mean she would say thank you or something dumb like that.” You laugh off. Rafe just nods at you slowly making his way towards the door. He can’t wait to get out of this room, something about you just isn’t right. “Right. Uh I gotta go. See ya man.” He was out of the room as soon as the words left his mouth. Leaving you there hoping you didn’t give yourself away.

The next few days you saw Rafe everywhere. He was in two of your classes, English and Biology. You’re thankful that your English teacher had assigned setting by last name. You were far away from him but your eyes would still find him. Looking at the back of his head and averting your eyes when he looks back at you. It didn’t help that he decided to be your lab partner for biology.

He sat down next to you, throwing his books down without saying a word. He doesn’t know why he can’t stay away. Rafe feels like something is wrong but at the same time he wants to figure out what. It’s the reason why he sat next to you and why he notices the things you do. He tries to play it off as if he gets close to you that he’ll likely get with your twin. If only he knew it was actually you.

The two of you watch each other in the cafeteria as you eat. Eyes meeting and looking away just to look back. At this point Rafe thinks you're gay, he has nothing wrong with that, it's not his type though. His friends are talking around him but his brain is playing a game of tennis. Throwing ideas out left and right.

Maybe you are just socially awkward and that's why you act like that around him. Or you are from some freaky conservative family that sheltered you for too long. All his thoughts just keep playing in his mind, every interaction on display to dissect. This game of cat and mouse continues for the first week you are there. You are just counting down the days until you can leave.

The stress of not getting caught has been eating you alive. Both of your parents have been texting you to go to their house since you weren’t there the following week. They think you are still staying at the other parents house. A risky plan but they only talk to each other when you do something they don’t like or when Max does good in something. The idea of them finding out has been eating you alive. 

You had called Max, anxiety getting the best of you. “What do you want?” The call is a little fuzzy, his international plan seems to be only doing okay. “You need to come home like now. I can’t keep doing this.” You can hear people talking in the background of his call. He says something to them and the noise dies down. “Listen it’s just one more week you can do it.”

“Max no you need to come home. Mom and dad keep asking me to come home. What if they find out?” If he was there right now he would slap the back of your head to have your senses come back. You’ve always had the flare for dramatics in his eyes. “Relax mom and dad arent going to find out. I’ll be back before they even notice. Just one more week.” You give in knowing that he won’t come back.

In the hallway Rafe was making his way to his room after coming back from a run. He was in the middle of taking his headphones off when he heard voices coming from your room. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to the door, resting an ear on it to get a better shot. He heard it all, from the begging of your brother to come back to him saying he’ll be back in a week. What he can’t really understand is the voices.

Without a doubt he believes the female voice to be you, Max’s twin sister. What he can’t wrap his head around is the male voice on the other end. In his mind he knows that it’s you, it had to be. But the voice sounds different, the tone and octave aren’t the same that he’s been hearing. It's confusing to say the least. He goes to his room when he hears the call end, piecing together all the information that he knows. Which isn’t much.

You get awkward around him when he tries to talk to you in class, acting like a pre-teen who can’t talk to girls. Now that he thinks about it there’s a good chance you are gay. He catches you checking him out in English and the lunch room. Always tables away with your eyes glued to him. Then there are the times where he will see you blush at something he says. Rafe knows he’s a good looking guy. Girls were constantly throwing themselves at him before his dad sent him off to this shit hole.

He ignores the rest of his thoughts as he winds down from his run. Taking the necessary post workout vitamins and shakes he has. During this time you had made your way to the bathroom. Having to share a communal bathroom has not been ideal for this situation. The only times you can shower is super early in the morning and late at night. Since you are not a morning person, night showers it is. 

Peaking your head out your door you check the hallway to make sure no one is coming. Once the coast is clear you book it to the bathroom, running into the shower stalls. The stalls don’t have doors, just two curtains. You would think for the amount of money it takes to go here they would have better showering options. You strip in the first section letting the water heat up. When the water is hot enough you get in. Even for the lousy coverage they do have nice showers.

It was large enough to have double the space needed. There was a detachable shower head that had amazing water pressure. Plus a little bench to keep your stuff on not only in the changing space but the shower as well. Let’s just say that these showers have been the highlight to all of this mess. You get under the running stream, the water coats your body. Warming you up as you stand under the stream.

You go through your routine. Washing your hair you start to hum to a song that’s been stuck in your head. Getting lost in the moment you sign the lyrics softly, switching to different songs that randomly popped up. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear that someone had walked into the bathroom. Rafe had come in to wash away the sweat from his run when he heard singing. 

He stopped for a moment when he realized it wasn’t a guy singing. That or this poor guy’s balls haven’t dropped. He walks closer to where the sound is coming from. Making sure to keep his footsteps light. The last thing he wants is for the person to hear him and stop. He stops in front of the stall where the voice is coming from. Yeah there’s definitely a chick in there he thinks. Without really thinking about what he’s doing and how he’s close to becoming a creep. He pulls the first curtain aside, walking in. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

You let out a small scream, scared from the sound of Rafe’s voice. You stand there frozen not knowing what to do. You’ve been caught, the person on the other side obviously knows you aren’t a guy. “Well?” You let yourself grab the curtain, pulling it around you so you can look at the person. “I’m so sorry. It’s a really long story actual-” Your words die when you see who it is. Rafe.

He’s as shocked as you are, both of you have wide eyes. “Your Max’s twin.” Then he says your name, to double check he had it right. “What the fuck are you doing here.” You want to answer, you really do. But his towel is hanging low on his waist, his toned stomach on display. That’s when it clicked to him, Max wasn’t gay because it wasn’t Max. It was you.

It all makes so much sense now. “Max wanted to go on vacation so he had me pretend to be him.” You don’t look him in the eyes. Mostly out of shame of being caught, the other being that you are too busy checking him out. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like without it on. A pink blush graces your cheeks at the thought. The reaction is noticed by Rafe.

He then realizes you are naked behind that curtain. Your wet body is right there for him to grab, only separated by thin plastic. He looks you up and down, mostly seeing your silhouette due to the curtin being slightly white. His dick is getting hard just thinking about you and how wet you must feel. He covers himself with a hand the other holding his shower stuff. “So you’ve been pretending to be him this whole time?”

“Yup.” You clutch the plastic to your chest, the water hitting the back of you. “Well this is awkward now.” He scratches the back of his neck looking at the ground. “I told you that I thought you were hot.” He laughs, shaking his head. When his hand falls back to his side you take it in yours. Hoping that your bicep can help the plastic keep you covered. “It’s okay. I think you're hot too.”

Maybe it's the fact that he has a pretty girl in front of him or the fact he hasn’t been laid in a while since being her, but he’s about to lose control. Fuck he’s been so desperate that he imagined you that night after seeing your photo as he masturbated. This is honestly a dream come true for him. He laces his fingers with yours, placing his things down. 

“You know I read somewhere that we should be saving as much water as we can. Mind if I get in with you?” Rafe never read that anywhere. The only reading he does is when he’s texting or doing school work. You will never catch him reading something about climate change or whatever. You smirk as you look up at him, dropping the curtain to take his towel off. “Mhmmm. Wouldn’t want to be wasteful.” He leans over you, his height allowing him to see all of you as he looks down. 

Your hands graze up his thigh, fingertips dancing along his dick. One of his hands cups your face to bring you in for a kiss, the other plays with a nipple. He backs you up to the wall and deepens the kiss. His hand moving lower to rub your clit. Your hand tightens around him, a moan slipping your lips.

He pulls back to watch your face, wanting to absorb every moan you let out. From the side of his eye he sees the shower head. He smirks down at you, pulling his hand back and taking yours off him. “Is everything okay?” You’re worried something happened and he wants to stop. “Yeah pretty girl it is. Why don’t you sit on that bench for me?” Even though it was a question he meant it as a command.

You hesitate at first, concerned about how sanitary it is. Then you see the look in those pretty blue eyes and your concerns vanish. Sitting down, you watch as he takes the shower head down, switching the stream setting. He’s probably going to regret this later but he kneels down on the tiles. Positioning the shower head between your legs, the strong stream hits your clit. You didn’t see that he adjusted the water temperature so it wasn’t burning hot.

“That feel good?” Your hand flies to his shoulder, nails marking his flesh. “So good.” You moan out, trying to be mindful of your volume. Rafe gently moves the head around, creating circles on your clit. It feels so fucking good. He leans over you, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. He sucks on it while his unoccupied hand finds your entrance, teasing a finger in you.

Rocking the finger back and forth, he adds a second when he feels you relax around him. The sensation of his mouth, finger, and water is too much. You are biting so hard on your lip to stay quiet that you’re bleeding. You release your lip with a wince, the sharp sting radiates in your bottom lip. Rafe looks up at the sound, eyes clocking the red coming from the cut. “Poor baby.”

He licks the blood, giving a quick suck to your lip to make sure he got everything. “It’s just too much for you, isn't it? Hmm?” He taunts as his fingers increase in speed. Your climax is right there, you can feel it in your fingertips. “Please Rafe. I” You sob rips it’s way out of your throat, your orgasim over powering. You are physically shaking from the intensity but he doesn’t let up. He keeps the water right where it is, his fingers increase their pace. He goes back to sucking on your nipples. You try to tell him it’s too much but all that comes out is moans. 

It feels like your orgasim is never ending. Then with one more stroke to your g-spot you were gushing. Rafe takes the shower head away, still fingering you to get you to squirt more. You keep drenching him, his fingers now rubbing your clit furiously only making it worse. He drops the shower head, his hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Silencing you moans as the last bit comes gushing out of you. You’re spent, body limp from that earth shattering orgasim.

“That was so fucking hot.” Rafe bends down and starts to lick you clean. Dying to get a taste of you. You push his head away from how sensitive you are. Your clit feels like it’s on fire. He pulls you up and turns you around to bend over on the bench. He’s not going to last long, he was close to blowing his loud just watching you. There’s just no way in hell he’s giving up his only chance to fuck you.

Before you could protest he’s already slipping in. You’re so wet that he slides right in and bottoms out. He gives you a second to adjust and then he’s ramming his hip into you. You’re still sensitive so your next release builds up quickly. He wants to be embarrassed from how fast he comes, he really does. He just can’t find it in him to really care.

You feel so good wrapped around him, your walls constricting him so tight. He barely had room to keep fucking you as you second orgasim ripped through you. He quickly followed, pulling himself out and jerking off so he could paint your ass. It’s okay because he’ll wash it off of you in a second. You get up after getting your bearings and the two of you wash off. “That was really fucking good.” You dream out loud. 

Rafe gives you a kiss, nibbling on your lips. You wince due to the cut. “Sorry.” He gives it a kiss better. “Same time tomorrow?” You smile and nod.

Safe to say the following week was spent sneaking off at any given chance you had.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #drew starkey smut #outer banks smut #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe

[magewritesstories]

[ SPENCER REID ] IT'S BASIC MATH, REALLY

cw. my continuation of unit chief!spencer reid x gen z!agent, in this installation you try to explain girl math to him [fluff.] wc. 601 (it's a small blurb)

SPENCER REID KNOWS MATH; HE HAS A PHD IN IT TO PROVE SO. But somehow you've managed to stump him (which happens more often than the genius would like to admit) with the concept of what you call 'girl math.'

It started when you walked into the small crowded bar near the Quantico building where the team had decided to meet up after a particularly satisfying arrest.

You strutted into the room in a pair of gorgeous, expensive-looking shoes, and of course, Penelope had to comment on it.

"Oh my God, Y/N," the blonde practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug, "You look even more gorgeous than usual—I love, love, love those shoes!"

You let out a soft laugh as you joined the rest of the team at the table with a quick greeting. "Thanks, Pen, they were actually pretty cheap," you reply, "I got 'em at Bloomingdales."

"Really?" JJ asked, joining in on the conversation, "Were they having a sale?"

"Nope, but they were only $156," you answer.

Spencer raised his brows in surprise, "You think $156 is a cheap price for one pair of shoes?"

"Mhm," you hum as you take a drink that Luke hands you, "It's girl math."

"Come again?"

"Girl math," you clarify, standing closer to him so that he can hear you over the loud music.

Spencer leans towards you instinctively, genuinely curious about whatever 'girl math' was.

"So, basically, these shoes cost $156, right?" you say as he nods along, "But they're comfortable and cute, plus they go with like four different outfits, which means I'll be wearing them a lot. In the coming month, I'll probably wear them, like, 10 maybe 15 times. Which means that they actually only cost me around 10 to 15 dollars—you know, if you divide 156 by the amount of times I wear them."

"But you don't pay for the shoes in installments," Spencer replied in confusion, "And your shoes aren't a car, the amount you walk in them doesn't depreciate their value like mileage would a car."

You shrug as you take another swig of your drink. "But this way, I make myself feel better about spending $156 on shoes," you reply with a grin.

"So it's a form of consolation?" he replied with a small grin playing on his lips.

You roll your eyes as you give him a soft shove, "Shut up, Dr. Reid."

Spencer lets out a laugh at your playful eye roll.

"Well, either way, you do look nice in them," he said.

"You sayin' I don't usually look nice?" you teased, leaning even closer to him.

The close proximity suddenly made him realize the rest of the team had magically vanished from the table.

(Luke and Penelope had managed to drag JJ and Emily to the dance floor, while Matt, Tara, and Rossi were making conversation with the bartender.)

"Silence, really, doc?" you continued, feigning a hurt expression, "I'm hurt."

"I—I—What, no!" Spencer quickly replied, turning back to you, "That's not what I—what I mean was you look nicer than usual—not that you don't usually look nice or anything—"

You laughed, throwing your head back just a little, as you stopped him from digging himself an even deeper grave. "Calm down, Spence, I was joking."

You put down the now empty glass and grabbed his arm. "C'mon, you need to loosen up, let's dance."

Spencer let you drag him to the dance floor, where he pointedly ignored JJ and Emily's surprised faces as well as Luke and Penelope's eyebrow wiggles.

He was never going to hear the end of this.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #bau team #girl math #gen z #unit chief spencer reid #behavioural analysis unit #unit chief spencer reid x gen z reader #gen z reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jason gideon #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #dr spencer reid

[gay-wh0re-slut]

rhea smut where rhea and reader get into a petty argument (that's not even serious they're both just stubborn) and they decide instead of arguing they take their anger/tension out on eachother by fucking? (this is really just an excuse for bottom rhea again...)

omg yes i can bc im a stubborn ass bitch too hahahaha

(((also sorry this has taken me so long to do but thank you for the request <3)))

Bath Time

rhea x fem!reader

content: rhea flashes her big blue eyes… oh SHES GETTING IT and by getting it i mean fingering, oral, slight edging, hot sexy times

You hear the front door open, footsteps and two sets paws clacking on the hard wood floor, door closing and locking back. Sitting on the kitchen counter eating some cereal, Rhea finally comes into view, unhooking Barry and Luna from their leashes.

“Oh,” she said a little shocked, “good morning!”

“Morning, love,” you kicked your feet slightly. “How was the walk?”

“The weather was so nice, but because of the rain last night there were…some puddles,” she pointed at Barry.

You look to the terrier and see that his paws and legs were covered with dirt. Your mouth dropped but quickly closed once you looked at Luna, she was completely dry, typical.

“I tried to wipe him off as best I could before we came in but he just thought I was playing with him,” her big shoulders shrugged.

“Of course,” you giggled, “well it is your turn to give him a bath.”

It took her a second to process what you said as she was putting the leashes on the hooks by the garage door, “w-what?”

“I did it last time he got all gross, so it’s your turn,” you repeated.

“No no no no, I specifically remember him splashing the hell outta me because I had to take an extra long time getting the mud off of him from the last time it poured down and we let him out the back,” she walked towards you with her hands on her hips. Her booty shorts, big tshirt and little messy bun weren’t helping her look scary.

You took your last bite and put the bowl in the sink, “no that was the time before mine because I have snapchat memory proof of the last time he took a bath because I did it. He was doing surprisingly well so I decided to take a bubble picture, remember?”

She thought for a split second, “no, that was before the fiasco happened when I was doing it. I had to pee so bad that I asked you to watch him and then he got too excited to see me again that he jumped in the water!”

You could tell she was getting a little frustrated but you knew you were right. “Yes, I remember that, but I gave him a bath when you were at a show. I posted it on my instagram stories too, Dom even said ‘wow he’s acting right for once!’ So I for sure did it last time, so it’s definitely your turn,” you crossed your arms in satisfaction, thinking you finally won.

She bowed her head and squeezed the bridge of her nose, “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, it’s true,” you leaned your hands on the counter, kicking your feet again as you leaned into her gaze, hoping that she would give in anyway, even though you were definitely correct.

She finally looked at you, “don’t look at me like that,” she huffed.

You bit your lip ever so slightly, “like what? I’m not doing anything!” You knew exactly what you were doing.

She sighed as she looked at the ceiling. You knew it was hard for her to get mad at you because you never did anything wrong in her eyes. She looked back down at you and finally pushed her way between your legs, “baby,” she said in her gravelly voice.

“Noooo, don’t do that,” you stopped her almost immediately.

“Baby,” her hands grazed along your outer thighs as she looked up at you, “please, I’ll do… the dishes for the week or take out the trash or-”

“Stop it,” it was hard to tell her no because of the overwhelming power she had over you but you couldn’t let her win this time, “you know I’m right or you wouldn’t be doing this,” you avoided eye contact because if you did look at her eyes, it would be over.

“Oh c’mon,” her tattooed hands slowly moved up your torso under your shirt, “we can take a shower after.”

Still refusing to look at her, “I can take a shower by myself, thank you.”

“But it would be so much better if I was with you,” her nails were gently scratching at your back sending chills down your spine, “c’mon,” she whispered, “look at me.”

You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling dramatically with a big sigh, “no, because this happens every time, but I’m winning this one,” you huffed.

She left soft kisses on your arms, but you pulled away, only after letting her get a few in.

“You know it’s your turn or you wouldn’t be acting this way and you know it!”

Her soft growl came through, “why won’t you look at me?” completely ignoring what you have been saying.

“I can’t, Rhea,” you said annoyed, “and you know that.”

She let that sit in the air for a minute thinking of what to say next. Though you weren’t looking at her directly you could tell that she was seething and it made you feel satisfied. Even though it was a little toxic, you loved when she got upset because that either meant that she put you in your place or you got your way. You didn’t let this happen often though because then you knew that would be too much, but when it did, it was so fun.

Tricking you, one of her hands gently slid out from under your shirt and glided up your chest, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck, but then the mood quickly changed when she flung her hand around grabbed your face forcefully, pulling your head down to finally look at her.

“Let’s make a deal,” her eyes flashed dark, staring into yours.

Your heart pounded as she pulled you closer, unfolding your arms to brace yourself on the counter. You were about to speak but she started again.

“Whoever…finishes first, has to give him a bath,” an evil grin grew on her face.

“And what does that mean?” you asked knowing exactly what that meant.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” her grip tightened slightly.

You pulled your head out of her grip by grabbing her wrist and squeezing it, causing her to loosen her fingers. You yanked her closer to you looking down at her, which you never got to do because she was a bit taller than you, and gave her an evil grin back, “You can’t even last a second under me.”

Her facial expression changed immediately when you pulled her closer to you, scared but intrigued. Her eyes widened at your dig, but quickly changed back to sinful, “I could say the same about you, princess,” she gave you a wicked grin as she yanked back her arm.

“I’d like to see you try,” you growled.

She took a deep breath, glaring back at you. In what seemed like half of a second, she pulled your hips towards her and picked you up off the counter. She flung you over her shoulder, fireman style, and carried you to the bedroom. You gently writhed and kicked as she walked through the house but she smacked your ass to calm you down…it didn’t help.

Once inside the room she closed the door to keep the dogs out, then turned around and slammed you on the bed. It literally took your breath away but you didn’t care. She ripped her shirt off and threw into oblivion as she crawled on top of you, immediately starting to kiss over your body. You loved when she touched you no matter what kind, but you knew you couldn’t let this go on for long.

So you let her go for a minute longer, letting her think that the small moans and sighs were a sign of you losing the bet. Taking a deep breath and gathering all your strength, you pushed her to the side of you and climbed on top of her. Blue eyes widened at the sudden change. “Don’t think you’re winning this one, Ripley,” you knew she could never back down from a challenge.

“Wanna bet?” she said right before flipping you back over to the first position.

You grunted in disappointment because obviously she was stronger than you. She went back to leaving a trail of gentle kisses on your exposed skin as her hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly, teasing you.

It was working, and you hated it. You were going to win. But…you also loved it so you reveled in it for a little while, letting her cherish you before you ultimately took over. She carefully pulled your arms causing you to sit up, then quickly took your shirt off throwing it into the same oblivion. Landing one of her hands on your now bare shoulder as the other gripped your hair, pulling your head to one side exposing your neck. You swore you saw her eyes turn red as she dove into you, nipping and sucking at your skin.

Gentle moans and whimpers asking for more fell out of you with ease. The hand on your shoulder moved down to your breast, tightly squeezing it before moving to your chest to push you back down with a little force. You huffed as you landed, looking up at her. Her strong tattooed legs straddling your hips, her chest heaving quickly as she looked over you as if she was going to eat you alive. She raked a hand through her hair, licking her teeth. An evil smile grew on her face, you could’ve folded right then but you didn’t, you can’t let her win.

“You look so…helpless,” she whispered almost laughing.

Your brow furrowed at her as your eyes squinted in fake anger, knowing she didn’t actually mean it, she just wanted to get a rise out of you. She did this often when she wanted you to fight back. And you loved it.

“Aw, did that hit a nerve?”

“Never,” you said but caught her by surprise as you hooked a leg around the front of her torso and pushed her back as you sat up copying her pose above her. She looked genuinely shocked that you could do that.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” her voice was shaky. You got her.

“Watching you,” you said nonchalantly. Finally you were in charge, but surprisingly, she didn’t stop you.

You genuinely didn’t think you would get this far though you had all that confidence, so you hesitated for a second before you decided on what to do next. You cupped her face, gently caressing it with your thumb which led to you gliding it over her lips. She voluntarily opened her mouth, giving you the idea to put it in, “close,” was all you needed to say and she followed orders. Her tongue swirled over your finger with her piercing clinking on your nail, followed by her giving it a good suck. Finally letting her go, she opened her mouth letting it fall out gently sliding off of her tongue.

Wiping your thumb in the process, you traced your hand down the center of her chest. Once it reached her tight sports bra, you caressed one of her breasts, toying with her piercing underneath. Now both hands were tugging at the elastic trying to get it off.

“Oh please,” she huffed as she sat up and took it off for you throwing it to the other clothing, “better?” as she laid back down.

“Someone’s eager to lose,” you cooed.

“Watch your mouth, princess. I’m just letting you get some licks in before I take over,” she rolled her eyes.

“As if you don’t like when I’m on top,” you squinted.

“Shut up,” was all she could say. You knew you were right, as much as she liked being the dominant one, she loved being taken care of once in a while.

You rolled your eyes in response as you dive down to her chest. You began leaving sloppy kisses all over her now bare skin. You traced your tongue up her chest to her neck, ending at her ear. You gave it a small bite, “now look who’s helpless,” you whispered. You gave a good bite on her neck causing her to whine loudly, grabbing at your hips for support.

You chuckled at her response. Going down once more, leaving a trail of kisses, nips and bites, you shimmied your hips further down her legs as you went. Listening to her small but deep moans could send you over the edge easily but you didn’t dare to venture that far.

As you snuck your way down her toned torso, you grabbed the waistband of her black booty shorts and dragged them down with you. She voluntarily lifted her hips letting you pull them off of her. You struggled a bit because of how tight they were but she didn’t seem to mind too much.

You hummed at the sight of her, “you’re so pretty.” The pace so far was intense and fast but as soon as those shorts hit the floor and you saw her sprawled in front of you, a switch went off in your hand to slow things down.

“You’d look prettier with your face between my legs,” she blurted out above you. Shocked at what she said but also a little pleased.

“Oh so eager,” you caressed your hands up her tattooed thighs slowly. Taking your sweet time, sometimes dragging your nails on her skin just to watch the goosebumps form. You got very close to her center more than a few times but didn’t want to give her that satisfaction just yet. You took one last trip around the skin of her legs before forcing them open. You situated yourself on your knees between her strong legs that could choke you out at any second, but that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, you thought.

“Please do something before I take over. You’re not gonna win at this pace,” she scoffed out of fake boredom.

“So you know I’m right!”

“N-no, that’s not what I said, I sai-”

“No I heard you, don’t worry though, I’m still gonna win no matter what,” you giggled as you finally dove down to pick up the pace again. Without any warm up or the chance for her to give you a snarky comment in response you swiped your tongue up her center.

“Fuck!” her back arched for a split second.

You let out a soft chuckle. Repositioning yourself on your stomach and slinking your arms under her beefy thighs for leverage, you continued to lap at her core. Her hands for their way to your head gripping at your hair. “You should really let me do this more often,” you kissed her thigh looking up at her writhing. The sight of her was so pleasing.

“Shut up!” she snarled but you loved it. She pushed you further into her, wanting more.

You were surprised that she was helping you win because you both knew this was a game but deep down, you knew how to play it better than her. You’ve studied for this, worked your way around her likes and dislikes. You wanted- no, needed to win just to prove that you were right.

As you were lapping her up and thinking of all the ways to get her to finish quicker, she suddenly yanked your hair up forcing you to crawl on top of her, “Ooww! What’re you doing?” you winced.

“Not letting you win,” she breathed before slamming her lips against yours to prevent you from talking back. Of course you easily fell into it. Unfortunately, she took the opportunity and whipped you back around onto the bed as she hopped on top of you. She pinned your arms above your head with one hand as she grazed the other hand up your stomach, between your breasts, finally locking it in place on your neck. “You know I’m going to win, so why don’t you just give up now, princess? Make it easier for both of us,” her eyes twinkled.

You huffed at her knowing that the pet name always got to you, “bite me.”

She was mad for a split second before her expression turned wicked, “whatever you say,” as she dove down to your neck and began to sink her teeth into you.

“Shit,” you whined as you tried to release yourself from her godly grip. You loved it too much, you needed her to stop but also… you didn’t.

She continued to nip and bite where she pleased until she was satisfied, “oops,” she said slyly looking at the marks she left.

She finally let go of your hands but didn’t let go of your throat. One of your hands found her wrist while the other landed on her thigh that was keeping you down. You tried to wriggle your way out from under her but she refused. Her free hand snuck its way under your waist band, teasing as if she would go farther as if she forgot about the game.

“You’re not gonna win at this rate,” you copied her from earlier.

“Don’t,” she tightened her grip on your neck, “mock me, babygirl. I’m just getting started,” she chuckled as she finally released your throat. She gave you an evil grin before she shuffled off of you and almost actually ripped your booty shorts and underwear off of you.

You bounced on the bed from the force, “damn!”

“Chill,” she huffed jokingly. Without hesitation she immediately shoved her hand between your thighs and began to circle your clit and hard.

You arched your back in response slamming your fists on the bed, “damn!” You said in a more needy tone than before. Whimpers fell out of you with ease, it was so hard for you to hold them back.

She continued her motion while diving onto your nipple with her skilled mouth, sucking and twirling her tongue just right. Your hands tangled themselves in her hair. Unfortunately, with this fast pace and extra stimulation, you’ve never been closer to finishing this fast before. As much as it pained you, you pushed her head away and sat up to face her. Her hand below stopped its motion.

“What? What’s wrong?!” she looked genuinely concerned.

“I can’t let you win,” as you pushed her down onto her back so that now your heads were at the foot of the bed.

“So I was close to winning,” she exclaimed

“Barely,” you lied. You crawled back down her tan body hoping to continue what you started before, and surprisingly she let you.

But this time you amped it up. As your tongue flicked about her center, with her writhing above you, you easily slipped your middle finger inside of her. A loud moan filled the room, satisfying you. You smiled into her core as you gently began to pump your finger in and out of her. Slowly increasing your pace as time went on, your tongue working its magic and her moans filling the room louder and louder, you knew she wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

Surprisingly, she didn’t stop you this time. You finalized your pace and kept it steady, swirling your tongue on her clit, you couldn’t wait to win.

“GOD… FUCK!” She screamed as she arched her back so hard she almost levitated off the bed. Her muscles were clenching around your finger, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head…you won.

You continued your motions until she finally came down from her high. You slowly removed your hand from her as you took one last long lick to clean her up. She shivered pulling your head up from below. You made eye contact with her as you sucked your finger clean, crawling back on top of her. You sat your happy self down on her hips watching her chest rise and fall, letting her catch her breath.

“I win,” you snarled with a wicked grin.

“Best two out of three,” she breathed.

You thought for a minute, “Bring it.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #i’m so sorry this took so fucking long please don’t hate me please #i thought this was a fun idea so i had to do it

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 2

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: the comments on the last pt. were so affirming, omg. thanks, guys. anyway, here's a second part. ig the same idea stands: if this does well, maybe i'll do a pt. 3?

part 1

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"You're looking for a man by the name of Barnes, James Barnes. He's the owner of the bar you took me from, and he's the head of the Barnes Family. He'll have the answers you're looking for."

"Where can I find him?"

The man grins, a dashing smile.

“I’m right here, Doll.”

—

Somehow, against your instincts, you manage not to take a step back. You keep your feet planted in front of the man, eye twitching a little, jaw clenching.

“You’re James Barnes?” You say, voice devoid of any real emotion.

“Disappointed? Looking for someone less handsome?” He shoots you a cheeky grin.

You scoff. “More like I wasn’t expecting to kidnap a mob boss.”

James laughs, a genuine laugh. “No, I bet you weren’t. However, I do have to say, I’m impressed. Not just anyone can take me by surprise.”

“How long?” You ask, ignoring his praise.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow.

“How long until your men come looking for you? I expected more time, but with you being in charge…” You trail off.

“Ah, yes.” He glances down at the very expensive watch on his wrist. “Well, if it’s 11 now, I’d say… ah. 7 hours before anyone notices.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That long? Really? Are you sure you’re important?”

He grins at you, a dashing grin. You shake your head slightly. You shouldn’t be thinking about his smile right now--you shouldn't be teasing him.

“Very. But my people know not to bother me at night. What I do on my own time is my business. You’re in the clear as long as I show up on time to my meeting. If I’m not there... Well, then people begin to worry.”

You let out an involuntary laugh. “In the clear? You're telling me I’m going to get away with kidnapping you? Actually, don't answer that. You're baiting me, and distracting me. I need answers. Back to my sister. Where is she?"

"I was wondering if you'd forgotten about that."

"Answer the question," you say, stepping forward and putting your knife back up against his throat. It seems to do the trick.

James' face grows serious, as if the man in front of you was no longer playing around with you and had switched into his regular business persona.

"She's alive."

You let out a relieved breath. Alive is something. Alive is good.

"Where are you keeping her?"

"Well, doll, I can't just tell you that."

"Sure you can," you say, repeating your words from earlier.

He smirks, "Why don't you just take the knife away from my throat first? I'm precious goods."

You roll your eyes at him, but you pull the knife away. You hold the knife up to him as if to say I will pull this out again and set it down on the table a few feet away, and as you turn around, you pull a chair from the same table up to James, placing it right in front of him. You sit, an expectant look upon your face.

"Look, doll, why don't you just go ahead and untie me now that you've put that knife away, and we can have a friendly talk about this?" He asks.

You scoff, yet again. This man, you think, is insufferable.

"Try again, pretty boy."

"So you think I'm pretty?" He smirks.

"I think you're annoying, and I think you know where my sister is. So, how about you stop wasting my time and tell me what I want to know?"

He sighs dramatically and lets his head roll to the side as if he's bored before lifting it to look you directly in the eye.

"Like I said before, she owed me something she couldn't repay."

"What's that?"

"That information's gonna cost you, sweetheart."

"You're in no position to be negotiating right now," you say indignantly.

"Sure I am. Don't forget I'm the most powerful man in Brooklyn."

"Don't forget you're tied up and I have a gun."

"You wouldn't shoot me."

"Fucking try me, doll."

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh. "Agree to my terms, sweetheart, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

You huff. "What are your terms?"

"'Atta girl!" He exclaims cheerily.

You grab your pistol from its holster at your side and aim it at the man in front of you, resting the gun on your thigh. He glances down at it before raising his gaze back up to you. He clears his throat, but something tells you it's not because he is nervous.

"Go on a date with me."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He's joking, you think. A date?

"A date?"

"A date."

"You want to go on a date with the woman who knocked you out, dragged you to an unknown location, tied you up, is demanding information from you, and is currently pointing a gun at you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"How do I know you won't just kill me when I show up?"

"Because that wouldn't be very gentleman like of me. My mama raised me better."

"You're a mob boss. You extort and kill people for a living."

He shrugs. "Well, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"No," you say.

"No?" He asks, confused.

"I have my own conditions." James tilts his head slightly as a signal to go on.

"You've already confirmed that my sister is alive which confirms you have her locked up somewhere. You will let her go and forgive her debt for whatever the hell it is that she owes you. Do that and once she is safely at home and I've laid eyes on her, you can have that date. Do we have a deal?"

James is staring at you, and as much as you hate it, you can't read him. Your heart is pounding, and you're hoping, praying even, that you've not pushed too far.

"Deal."

You blink once, twice before it registers that he has accepted the deal. Damn, you think, he really wants that date.

"Have her home by... What time was your meeting again? 7? Have her home safely by 7 tomorrow," you say, standing up from where you sat in front of him. You begin to move around the basement, picking up your things that you had brought with you in the whole kidnapping ordeal. Once you've collected your things, you start walking towards the stairs to leave. "If she isn't there, the deal's off."

"You're just going to leave me here?" James asks, pulling at his arm restraints.

You look over your shoulder at him and smile at him. "You're a mob boss, doll, I'm sure you'll get out of there in time." Then, with that, you ascend the stairs.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #marvel angst #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!au

[footballfanficwriter]

Hiii, I love your writing, can I request a Jude x reader where they do celebrity gogglebox and they watch Jude’s champions league final at Wembley where he proposed to her & she told him she’s pregnant, and they watch everyone’s reaction at Wembley when it’s happening ( his teammates, family & fans)

A/n: I was so excited to write this I just had to get started immediately,cause I hadn't gotten a request in such a long time,thank you so much for this and I hope you enjoy please comment and like at the end I'd really love some feed back as to how my writing is and where I need to improve

Looking Back

Hi I'm Jude Bellingham"

"And I'm Y/n Bellingham and welcome to our Google box interview"

"It's not an interview"

"Then what is it?"

(Color bars)

"Hi I'm Jude(Laughs)

"Why are you laughing?"

"Stop"

(Color Bars)

"Ok we gotta be serious this time"

"Hi I'm Jude Bellingham"

"And I'm Y/n Bellingham"

"And today we're doing a Google box, about our story and how we got to this moment in our lives together and my first of the season"

"Bit of a mouth full innit"

"Whatever, just press play"

He pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and kisses my forehead I lay my head on his chest , then he takes some popcorn from the bowl on my lap

I press play and the first thing that appears is Jude's first day in Madrid when he signed his Real Madrid contract

"This day was a big one you know, new place for us, new language and Culture, just everything"

"Luckily we had so many people that were willing to help and make our adjustment as easy as possible"

"True"

"Actually I remember something from that day"

"What?"

"You nearly tripped and fell"

I give him an eyebrow raise

"Yes you did, I remember you nearly fell and I caught you, I'm surprised they didn't get that on camera"

"No I didn't Jude, you're lying"

"No I'm not, I vividly remember holding your heels after the pictures cause you'd given up on them after you used my shoulder to help you take them off"

"I don't remember that"

"I even told you that morning before we left the hotel that you should get a comfortable shoe then you said no and I put your shoes in the car before we left"

"I still don't remember"

"The gaslighting is crazy"

"Let's continue" I say remembering the moment he's talking about

The video cuts and this time it's Jude's first Real Madrid game

"I remember that game, when we were in America during the preseason games and we played against Milan"

"I remember being in the stands and just being so nervous"

The video cuts and shows Jude waving to someone in the crowd after the game

"Mhhhm I wonder who you're waving too"

"Same" he says

The video cuts again but this time it's  Jude's first La Liga game where he scored his first La Liga goal and celebrates in front of the Bilbao fans and all of them showing him the finger

"The amount of hate that came from those fans you'd swear I'd  just killed someone"

I laugh at his his comment

"No but on a serious note though that was just iconic"

"And you know what I loved about it?"

"What?" He asks

"It never discouraged you, instead you continued playing at your best"

"Yeah it didn't discourage me but I for sure thought I would be the most hated player of the season and actually right after that moment I remember looking for you in the stands and you had made a heart with your fingers"

"I mean, I needed you to know that even if the whole world hates you I'll still love you"

"And I'll love you more"

The video cuts and it's Jude's first El classico where he scored two goals

"Ah I remember that game, it was my first El classico"

"I remember going home after that game and we were just in disbelief"

"Yeah, I just couldn't believe it, you know and I was so nervous the night before, remember?"

"Yeah I remember, you were pacing around the room and the whole time and I was just there trying to calm you down"

"I was nervous"

"I know you were my love, but the next day you scored 2 goals and won the match so there was no need to be nervous"

The video cuts again and shows Jude's Goal against Girona and his injury, how he was on the floor and the medical team icing his ankle

then the camera panned to me where I looked with a concerned expression on my face and glistening eyes

"I was so worried in that moment" I said looking at the screen

"So was I, I just heard my ankle pop and i knew something was wrong"

"We didn't get home the until the early hours of the morning"

He turned to the camera and said

"She stayed by my side the whole night despite me telling her to go home and rest and the whole time she held my hand while my ankle was being examined and I'm not gonna lie I was grateful that she didn't listen to me because that was very painfull and having her by my side just served as comfort"

"I couldn't leave you there, I would've been restless at home not knowing what was happening" I say smiling up at him

"Well I'm glad you stayed"

"You're welcome"

"Ok next"

The camera cuts to the Ballon d'or ceremony and Jude Winning the Kopa award where he does his speech

"Thank you everyone for all the wonderful support and the messages, two days ago I won my first El classico so this is just a cherry on top, thank you to the fans and the supports and my Family as well  I am grateful and I am appreciative,thank you"

"Wow, you really do have a way with words don't you?"

"What can I say, This was my First time going to the Ballon d'or ceremony and just being there with so many other great Footballers and Football legends was so surreal it felt amazing

I remember meeting R9 for the first time and you were by my side holding my hand and the whole time as we're talking to him I was holding onto your hand for dear life"

"I actually thought you were gonna break my hand I'm surprised I still have it"

"I'm sorry"

"It's fine I'm just glad i was there with you" I say

"He kisses my forehead and looks towards the screen again

The screen transitions to Jude's first Champions League game for Madrid

"That game was another for the books, first UCL game and I had scored the only and the winning goal"

"Yeah I was really proud to say the least ,aww look at that that, he's pointing to me" I say

"You wish"  he says jokingly

"One day , maybe not today or Tomorrow but one day you'll get a taste of your own medicine" I say

"Oh my gosh shiver me timbers I'm so scared"

"You will be" I say and lean back onto his chest and he kisses my head and I smile

The screen transitions to Jude's Golden boy ceremony

"Incredible moment" he said

"Yeah I just remember watching you with awe and I just thought about everything that happened to get to that moment and get that award"

"Yeah the plane ride to Italy was cool and calm but that's because we knew what to expect and what was going to happen I think it was when we got there that it actually dawned on us that I had just won the award"

"True"

The screen transitions again and this time

It's Jude Celebrating the supa copa de espane

"First trophy of the season and for Real Madrid" he says

"Unfortunately I wasn't there but you called me immediately after you got into the dressing room and the whole time, vini and cama were just interrupting us and asking to talk to me"

"I'm not gonna lie that did annoy me and I couldn't get a word in they kept stealing my phone as if they don't have their own girlfriends"

"I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your wife"

"At the time you were my girlfriend"

"I actually preferred talking to them"

"Of course you did" he says rolling his eyes

The screen transitions to the game where Jude received a red Card and got a two game ban as a punishment

"I don't wanna talk about this game, I might just get into trouble"

"But I won't"

"I don't know...

"Let's all be honest here that ref was unfair and he knows it he blew the whistle while the ball was in the air and in my opinion that red card shouldn't have even been pulled out, it was a natural reaction to what had just happened at the time"

"Ok Mrs. Bellingham, not you defending your Husband"

"I mean my husband is always protecting me so it's only right"

"I'm blessed to have you in my life"

"As am I" I say and smile as I look up at him and he pecks my lips

"Ok next one"

The screen transitions to the match where Jude was a spectator at a Real Madrid game after the red card he got

"I loved that game you know, the love and the support of the fans was one of the things that kept me going, and just let me know that they were behind me and that was really heart warming"

"The Madridistas are very much loved"

"That is not a lie"

"Next"

Now we're watching Jude accepting his Lauresports award

"I was just tired that day, exhausted could even describe it"

"I actually opted to accept the award on your behalf so you could rest and take a break for a little bit,but him being stubborn he refused"

"It wouldn't have been ok, even though I was tired I needed to be there"

"I don't know when you'll realize that you're only human"

"I know I am"

"Mhmmm, whatever you say"

Next we see the La Liga title race parade and Jude lifting the trophy

"That day was amazing" he says, ,"the atmosphere the fans, you"

"I loved the outfit mostly, you looked  Handsome more than anything"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, I can't explain it but damn, that day I learned to appreciate what I have" I say

He laughs and I join him in laughing

"You're so weird you know that"

"I'm just telling the truth"

He continues laughing and the screen changes again but this time a picture of Jude stating that he was the player of the season

"The day of the award show, I was getting ready for the champions league Final, so we couldn't attend and to be honest it was worth it because if I had attended I would have gotten what I received that day"

"And what's that?" I ask as I look at him hoping he'll mention our special moment

"Winning the Champions league"

I roll my eyes at him and watch the screen changed as he laughs at his stupid Joke

The screen changes to the Champions league Final against Dortmund

Showing highlights of the game and the team

Then the moment Real Madrid won the Champions league and the Celebrations

The camera then pans to Jude to where he's having his post match interview

"Jude, well done on your win, how long have you dreamed of this moment"

"Ages hey, a long time"

"What does it mean to win the champions league"

"It means the world to me, I've dreamed about this for a long time, it's every footballers dream"

"How do you plan on Celebrating such a moment"

"With my teammates and my Family, I've actually got a very important person here that hopefully I won't only be celebrating a champions league trophy with but much more as well

"Well congratulations Jude"

"Thank you, I need to go do something important, please excuse me"

"Of course"

"Here we go" Jude says as we watch the screen

He walks to the stands and walks to where I'm standing and helps me get down the stairs and leads me to the middle of the pitch

"Where are we going?" Can be mouth read as Jude  walks me to the pitch

"Just trust me" he replies

We reach the middle of the pitch when all of a sudden Jude Goes down on one knee and gives and inaudible speech that can't be heard because it was covered by the cheers and screams of the fans watching the interaction happen

"We couldn't even hear eachother in that moment" I say watching the screeen

All they see is me nodding my head and mouthing yes

Jude gets up and slips the engagement ring on and he hugs me tightly, then I swiftly pull away and look him in the eye

And mouth something that can't he heard or mouth read

Jude's eyes go bigger and on shock

"Are you serious?"

Is faintly heard and I nod and the fans continue cheering with Jude hugging me and spinning me around in the middle of the pitch

The video then shows the reactions of Jude's teammates, who rush over to congratulate us. The camera captures the joyous expressions of our family in the stands, and the fans are going wild with excitement.

Jude's teammates run to where we are

"Juuuuuude" they chant

Cama and Tchomeni  come and give me hugs

"Back off Cama that's my Future wife right there" Jude says

Cama rolls his eyes and just continues hugging me

"Congratulations"

"Thank you"

Back on the couch, Jude and I look at each other with smiles.

Jude looks to the camera and says

"Now you're probably wondering what she told, that made me react like that, truth is she told me that she was pregnant and that I was going to be a father and honestly, a three in one that night was amazing"

"I don't way that it was the best day of my life, but at the moment it is, but that will probably change when we get married or when we have our baby" he continues

"That moment changed everything," Jude says softly. "Winning the Champions League was amazing, but proposing to you and finding out we were expecting... that was the best moment of my life."

"Mine too," you say, leaning into him. "And now, here we are, sharing our story with everyone."

"Yeah, it's been an incredible journey," Jude agrees. "And I can't wait to see what the future holds for us toether. With us planning a wedding and expecting our first child together it's bound to be a rollercoaster"

"I've been Jude Bellingham and Joined by my Future wife Y/n Bellingham and thank you for watching

#football fanfic #romance #world cup #x reader #fan fiction #football #love #soccer fanfiction #imagine #reader #judebellingham #jude x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude

[kaivenom]

How the Peaky Blinders' boys dance with you

Masterlist

(All of the dances mentioned are real popular dances from the 20's, there are videos from youtube with original records if you want to check how they are)

Tommy Shelby

He doesn't ussually dance, he prefers to see you dancing and be on the corner of the room, just observing totally stunned.

The only time when he dances with you is when he needs to move around the place without raising suspicions or when you insist on it and later make him feel bad about leaving you on the dance floor.

His favourite thing to dance with you and probably the only thing is Fox-trot.

He always demands the band to change to jazz so you both could dance to the smooth and graceful rythm.

He dances slow and always looking everyone, checking that nobody does anything stupid while he is enjoying time with his partner, so everytime you need to remind him to look at you.

You can almost confirm he likes the music by the way his body swings next to yours, his fingers conecting with yours while his other hand travel firmly to your back.

John Shelby

He is a natural party person, he likes to be around and drink with everyone, but mostly he likes to dance.

And what better partner to dance that his partner itself, he always drags you to the dance floor for hours.

With all that energy and craziness his perfect dance for you both is Charleston, obviously.

The movements he does are the perfect definition of the dance, exuberant and wild.

You sometimes have trouble keeping his pace but it's always fun... and exhausting.

When he sense you are starting to feel tired, he goes to get a drink or accompanies you to take some air.

But don't be fooled, he probably drags you to the dance floor again later, at least he tries to dance things more slow.

You probably need another day without the kids to recover from the dance night.

Arthur Shelby

He is not good at dancing, he doesn't have sense of rythm so you both can't dance anything classified.

So, you go to simple dances like the Shimmy, with that you reassure him that he won't fool himself in front of other, which means a lot to him.

So, the Shimmy became your safe choice and make him want to go with you to dance.

When he tries new dance moves, everyone thinks that he is making new charleston move or that he is is drunk, usually the second one.

But at the end maybe it's not all dancing but it's surely very funny.

Michael Gray

He likes to make a show, he likes to show you off to everyone who has eyes.

Making it sensual and provocative is his passion so Tango is a must everytime you go out.

His body pressing against yours, his hands traveling to places very innapropiate to the society.

He always tells you to show your attributes to the him, which means the room, and that means to do move your legs and entangle it around him.

He also uses the dancing to assert dominance towards you and some times make you desire him.

Finn Shelby

He isn't very good at dancing but obviously not as bad as his older brother.

When the charleston stopped being trendy, he discovered the Black Bottom, just a little before everyone does.

So, when he starts dancing it in the pubs you were amazed, it was the perfect dance to hide his disorganized moves, but you were incredible stunned by it and rapidly asked him to show you.

In a couple of night out you both were the star couple of dancing but the dance was still new and nobody else did it.

A couple of months later and the Black Bottom was a trend, not thanks to both of you but now you don't need to ask for the music ... cause it's already playing whan you enter the pub.

It's funny and stimulating, probably because of both of you being really clumsy while moving.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders preference #shelby brothers #shelby brothers x reader #shelby brothers imagine #shelby brothers x you #shelby brothers preference #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x you #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby #john shelby x you #michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray x you #michael gray imagine #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby #finn shelby x you #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby

[kindaqueerngl]

pjo characters as weird and dumb things me and my friends have said

Percy: what the fuck is cockblocking like I can't block ur cock on Snapchat

-

Will: UUUUUUUGH MY ASS HURTS- ooh look a butterfly

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Leo: I CANT FIND MY PRETTY STICKER- AW FUCK- SHIT- MY VAGINA- OOAOoOoOOooAHAHHAgh

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Jason: I can't actually believe I just agreed with you but hey here we are

-

Reyna: why the fuck am I friends with any of you hoes

-

Piper: should I...? too late I did it

-

Will: the best way to rizz someone up is by rizzing them up *turns to friend, winks horribly* hey baby girl

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Rachel: one sec getting my anger out *aggressively splatters paint on canvas*

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Annabeth: sometimes I'm smart. When I'm smart, I'm smart. *awkward thumbs up and grimace*

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Octavian: fuck the gays they should all die ... I mean I could fuck some gays

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Hazel: I'll make you tea but not in a sweet way I'll make it so hot in burns your tongue and you can't speak for a week

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Frank: hey guys check me out I'm a furry on drugs *WOOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF*

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Grover: I love plants :3 specifically magic mushrooms but like

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Leo: I mean I would totally fuck you but like respect man

-

Will: Ugh fuck my life I hate everything *coldplay starts playing* I retract the previous statement I fucking love life

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Jason: UGH UR ALL SO DUMB but I'm in

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Nico: if u wanna kys clap ur hands *rapidly claps hands*

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Piper: *hypnotizes u with my beautiful blue orbs* come over to my house

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Hazel: respectfully hope you die <3

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Frank: I'm on acid what's it called when a ton of cats jump on each other a dog pile or a cat pile

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Reyna: OH THANK GOD- sike I don't believe in that motherfucker hahahha

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Annabeth: I'm so smart *holds up the one good test I got in school* see the teacher even gave me an 11/10 because I wrote my name in a cool font

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Leo: UUUUUGGGGGHHHH IM SO HORNY- *mom walks in* oh hi mom how are you

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Will: we can just... fuck. as friends though no homo.

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Rachel: IF I DON'T DRAW SOMETHING IN THE NEXT FEW MINUTES I AM GOING TO MAUL SOMEONE

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Octavian: you all suck and I hate you *silence* no wait come back

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Someone: haha ur gay

Nico: yeah??? and ur not?? like don't knock it until you try it dick is yummy man

-

Hazel: someone just told me what smearing is and honestly I kinda wanna die *fix you by coldplay starts playing* LMAO WTF

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Frank: you sad ass emo dog just be happy

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Percy: I Am OnE wiTh ThE oCeAn AnD HopEfuLLy aLL oF ThE hOt MerPeOpLe In iT

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Leo: *talking to literally nobody* hey guys!! gonna go get my top surgery! *shows up at claires*

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Reyna: I only wanna die sometimes and that's normal right

RIGHT

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Will: *playing guitar* haha look guys I'm fingering A minor *strums violently*

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Jason: screw men *eyes widen* I should start taking my own advice ngl

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Will: *listening to a playlist that Nico made him* ugh my emo ass boyfriend and his stupid music I hate him *proceeds to write his name over and over again in diary with hearts around it*

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Nico: what if I strangle someone with a pair of earbuds

Will: please don't

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Leo: *in demonic voice* LeAf *eats it*

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Nico: *pulls gay flag out of pocket* omg it's u

Will: *shuffles around in pocket, finds condom* ... it's u, vanilla flavoured

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Leo: my name's Leo

Percy: and I like jugs

Nico: I'm mentally ill

Leo: and I'm on drugs :D

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Jason: is there anything better than pussy

Piper: I thought you where gay

Jason:

Jason: my boyfriend's trans?

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Will: the temptation to fuck an emo boy rn is killing me

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Leo: the masculine urge to

Leo:

Leo: I forgor

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Will: that's good!

Nico: like me in bed

*silence*

-

Leo: smash or pass Ryan Gosling

Nico: SMASH

Will: PASS

Solangelo: *glares at each other*

-

Nico: omg stop with that song

Will: but

Will: but you can take me hot to go :(

-

Annabeth: yeah

Percy: yeah

Annabeth: *in funny voice* yeah

Percy *hentai moan* yEEEAAAaaH

-

Leo: *pointing at Nico* EEEEEEWWWW AN EMOOOOOO EWWW

-

Jason: never ever look up what an eyesha erotica lyric means

Reyna:

Reyna: oh you poor soul *pats back*

-

Nico: I can't breathe

Will: just

Will: breathe air

Nico: I breathe drugs

-

Piper: I'm gonna go play basketball

Leo: haha play with my balls

Jason: already do

Leo: *chokes on air*

well that's all sorry for the torture, thanks to @localcosplaymushroom, @crowwolf8, @justagremlinoncaffeine, and @secret-mewtwo for all of the funny convos that went into this

#funny #meme #haha #lol #pjo #hoo #toa #tsats #rrverse #Nico di angelo #piper mclean #piper mcqueen #Leo valdez #Jason grace #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #grover underwood #Percy jackson #annabeth chase #frank zhang #hazel levesque #incorrect quotes #solangelo #percabeth #will x nico #Nico x will #Percy x annabeth #annabeth x percy #frank x hazel #hazel x frank

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Love, Laughter, and Appendicitis

carlos sainz x reader

note: is 4:30am and i cant sleep so i was like why not write something and here it is...hope you like it, hope you are having a good day or night, dont forget to drink water and eat healthy...:)

Warnings: Fluff, Mention of Medical Procedures, Mild Language. thats it, i think?

-------------------------------

You sit in the stiff, uncomfortable chair beside Carlos' hospital bed, fingers entwined with his. The sterile smell of antiseptic fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of the flowers you'd brought earlier in the day. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor is a constant reminder of where you are and why you're here.

Carlos had been rushed to the hospital with a sudden bout of appendicitis. The surgery had gone smoothly, but the waiting had been torture. Now, as he lay recovering, his handsome face was relaxed in sleep, the worst of your worries were behind you. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that lingered, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

Carlos Sr., his father, sits on the other side of the bed, a comforting presence in the otherwise clinical room. He’s been through this before, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your still-frayed nerves.

Carlos stirs, his eyes fluttering open. You lean forward, your heart leaping as he wakes. His brown eyes are glazed, a side effect of the pain medication, but they light up when they find yours.

“Mi amor,” he slurs, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. “Did you bring the giraffes?”

You blink in confusion, glancing at Carlos Sr., who chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Giraffes, Carlos?” you ask gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Sí, giraffes,” he insists, trying to nod but wincing slightly. “I wanted to ride one. In the… in the… where are we?”

“We’re in the hospital, love,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “You had surgery, remember?”

He frowns, then his face lights up again. “Oh! The appendicit… appendici-thingy. I remember. It’s gone now, right?”

“Yes, it’s gone,” you reassure him, biting back a smile. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Carlos Sr. shakes his head, laughing quietly. “He’s never been good with pain meds,” he says, his voice filled with affection.

Carlos looks over at his father, his expression suddenly serious. “Papá, you promised to get me a hot air balloon. We need to go to… the moon.”

You can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. Despite your worry, Carlos' delirious ramblings are endearing, his usual composed demeanor replaced with childlike wonder.

“We’ll get you that hot air balloon,” his father promises, playing along. “Just rest for now.”

Carlos seems satisfied with this answer, his eyes drifting closed again. But just as you think he’s fallen asleep, he squeezes your hand, looking up at you with a lopsided grin. “You’re so pretty, did you know that? Like a… a… pretty butterfly. No, wait… prettier.”

Your heart melts, and you press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, my love.”

He blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on you with some difficulty. "Hey, cariño," he slurred, his voice dreamy. "Did you know… you have the prettiest eyes? Like... two big... beautiful... stars."

You couldn't help but smile at his words, despite the situation. The anesthesia and pain meds were clearly affecting him. "Thank you, love," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.

Carlos Sr. chuckled from the other side of the bed. "He's going to be talking nonsense for a while. Don't worry, it's normal."

You nodded, but you couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that escaped your lips when Carlos continued. "And... and did you see the... the purple elephants? They were... they were dancing! So funny."

"Purple elephants?" you asked, your amusement growing. "I must have missed them."

Carlos laughed, a sound that was both loopy and endearing. "Yeah, they were... they were here. But they said... 'Carlos, you need to... to rest.' And I said... 'Okay, but only if... if my beautiful wife can stay.'"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mix of relief and overwhelming love. "I'm right here, Carlos. I'm not going anywhere."

He sighed contentedly, squeezing your hand with surprising strength. "Good... 'cause... 'cause I love you so much. Did I tell you that today?"

Carlos Sr. shook his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "I think you have, but it's always nice to hear," he said, clearly enjoying the show.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Carlos's forehead. "I love you too, Carlos. So, so much."

He beamed up at you, his eyes drifting shut again. "Good... 'cause... you're stuck with me... forever."

"As long as you don't go chasing any more purple elephants," you teased, feeling the tension in your chest finally start to ease.

few minutes later:

Carlos blinked slowly, his expression earnest despite his haze. "No, really," he insisted, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "You’re like... like a goddess. My goddess. And we’re married. Did you know we’re married?"

Your worry melted away as you watched him, replaced by a warm, affectionate amusement. "Yes, Carlos, I know we’re married."

He nodded, as if this was the most profound revelation. "Good, good. Because I love you. So much. More than… more than racing."

His father laughed again, clearly enjoying his son's delirious state. "That's a bold statement coming from you, Carlos."

Carlos turned his head towards his father, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Papa? You’re here too? Are we having a party?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, a mix of relief and endearment washing over you. "No party, love. Just making sure you're okay."

Carlos's eyes grew wide, and he tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by you. "Easy there, don’t hurt yourself."

He pouted slightly, a comical sight on his usually composed face. "I wanted to dance with you. Can we dance later?"

You nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Yes, we can dance later. When you’re feeling better."

Carlos sighed contentedly, his eyes drifting shut again. "Okay. I like dancing with you. And kissing you. Lots of kisses."

Carlos Sr. patted his son’s leg affectionately. "Rest, Carlos. You can do all the dancing and kissing you want once you’re better."

You watched as Carlos's breathing evened out, a serene look settling on his face. He sighs contentedly, his grip on your hand loosening as he finally drifts into a peaceful sleep. You sit back in your chair, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Despite the unexpected twist in your day, Carlos’ silly, medicated declarations have put you at ease.

Carlos Sr. stands, stretching. “I’ll get us some coffee,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling up at him. “And thank you for being here.”

He nods, giving you a reassuring smile before leaving the room. Alone with Carlos, you watch his chest rise and fall with each steady breath, your heart swelling with love for this incredible man.

Despite the chaos, the worry, and the gibberish about giraffes and hot air balloons, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. This is your life with Carlos, unpredictable, sometimes ridiculous, but always filled with love.

As Carlos sleeps, you allow yourself to relax a bit more, sinking back into the chair and letting the tension drain from your body. His peaceful expression reassures you, reminding you of all the wonderful moments you've shared and the many more you will create together.

A nurse comes in quietly to check on Carlos, her presence a gentle reminder of where you are. She smiles at you kindly, her movements efficient and unobtrusive.

"He’s doing well," she whispers after checking his vitals. "The meds will keep him a bit loopy for a while, but he’s on the mend."

You nod, grateful for her reassurance. “Thank you.”

Once she leaves, you return your attention to Carlos. His hair is slightly mussed, his lips still curled in that adorable, lopsided grin. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through his hair, your touch light and tender.

Carlos stirs again, blinking slowly as he regains consciousness. His eyes focus on you, and he smiles sleepily. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. “Did we get to the moon yet?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Not yet, my love. But soon, I promise.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Good. I need to plant a flag there. A big one, with our faces on it.”

“That sounds perfect,” you say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “We’ll do that.”

Carlos Sr. returns with two cups of coffee, handing one to you before taking his seat again. “How’s our astronaut doing?” he asks, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“He’s planning our next adventure,” you reply, sharing a smile with him. “We’re going to the moon.”

“Of course you are,” Carlos Sr. says, laughing. “He’s always been a dreamer.”

Carlos, still half-asleep, mumbles something unintelligible, and both you and his father chuckle softly. You take a sip of your coffee, the warmth and bitterness grounding you, reminding you that you’re not alone in this.

------------

The day passes slowly, the minutes ticking by with a strange blend of anxiety and calm. Nurses come and go, checking on Carlos and making sure he’s comfortable. Each time he wakes, he has something new and ridiculous to say, each statement more endearing than the last.

As evening falls, Carlos finally starts to become more coherent. His eyes clear, and his grip on your hand tightens. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice more steady now. “How long was I out?”

“Most of the day,” you say, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “You needed the rest.”

He sighs, nodding slowly. “I feel like I’ve been talking nonsense.”

“You have,” his father says with a grin. “But it’s been entertaining.”

Carlos groans, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say quickly, squeezing his hand. “It’s been kind of cute, actually.”

“Cute?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “I’m glad you think so.”

You lean in, kissing him softly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He smiles against your lips, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I am, thanks to you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, feeling your heart swell with emotion.

Carlos Sr. stands, stretching. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” he says with a knowing smile. “But don’t stay up too late. You both need your rest.”

“Thanks, papa,” Carlos says, his voice warm with gratitude.

As his father leaves the room, you settle into the chair beside Carlos, holding his hand and basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Despite the day’s chaos, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Carlos is here, safe and on the road to recovery, and that’s all that matters.

“Ready for that hot air balloon ride to the moon?” you tease, resting your head on the edge of his bed.

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything.”

And in that moment, you know that no matter where life takes you, as long as you have Carlos by your side, everything will be just fine.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #cs55 fluff